第 8 节
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这就是结局 更新:2021-02-20 15:57 字数:9321
that which is known to genius when at last it bursts from its
hidden cavern into light and fame!
He did not speak; he did not move; he stood transfixed;
breathless; the tears rolling down his cheeks; only from time to
time his hands still wandered about;mechanically they sought
for the faithful instrument; why was it not there to share his
triumph?
At last the curtain fell; but on such a storm and diapason of
applause! Up rose the audience as one man; as with one voice
that dear name was shouted。 She came on; trembling; pale; and in
the whole crowd saw but her father's face。 The audience followed
those moistened eyes; they recognised with a thrill the
daughter's impulse and her meaning。 The good old Cardinal drew
him gently forward。 Wild musician; thy daughter has given thee
back more than the life thou gavest!
〃My poor violin!〃 said he; wiping his eyes; 〃they will never hiss
thee again now!〃
CHAPTER 1。III。
Fra si contrarie tempre in ghiaccio e in foco;
In riso e in pianto; e fra paura e speme
L'ingannatrice Donna
〃Gerusal。 Lib。;〃 cant。 iv。 xciv。
(Between such contrarious mixtures of ice and fire; laughter and
tears;fear and hope; the deceiving dame。)
Now notwithstanding the triumph both of the singer and the opera;
there had been one moment in the first act; and; consequently;
BEFORE the arrival of Pisani; when the scale seemed more than
doubtful。 It was in a chorus replete with all the peculiarities
of the composer。 And when the Maelstrom of Capricci whirled and
foamed; and tore ear and sense through every variety of sound;
the audience simultaneously recognised the hand of Pisani。 A
title had been given to the opera which had hitherto prevented
all suspicion of its parentage; and the overture and opening; in
which the music had been regular and sweet; had led the audience
to fancy they detected the genius of their favourite Paisiello。
Long accustomed to ridicule and almost to despise the pretensions
of Pisani as a composer; they now felt as if they had been unduly
cheated into the applause with which they had hailed the overture
and the commencing scenas。 An ominous buzz circulated round the
house: the singers; the orchestra;electrically sensitive to
the impression of the audience;grew; themselves; agitated and
dismayed; and failed in the energy and precision which could
alone carry off the grotesqueness of the music。
There are always in every theatre many rivals to a new author and
a new performer;a party impotent while all goes well; but a
dangerous ambush the instant some accident throws into confusion
the march of success。 A hiss arose; it was partial; it is true;
but the significant silence of all applause seemed to forebode
the coming moment when the displeasure would grow contagious。 It
was the breath that stirred the impending avalanche。 At that
critical moment Viola; the Siren queen; emerged for the first
time from her ocean cave。 As she came forward to the lamps; the
novelty of her situation; the chilling apathy of the audience;
which even the sight of so singular a beauty did not at the first
arouse;the whispers of the malignant singers on the stage; the
glare of the lights; and morefar more than the restthat
recent hiss; which had reached her in her concealment; all froze
up her faculties and suspended her voice。 And; instead of the
grand invocation into which she ought rapidly to have burst; the
regal Siren; retransformed into the trembling girl; stood pale
and mute before the stern; cold array of those countless eyes。
At that instant; and when consciousness itself seemed about to
fail her; as she turned a timid beseeching glance around the
still multitude; she perceived; in a box near the stage; a
countenance which at once; and like magic; produced on her mind
an effect never to be analysed nor forgotten。 It was one that
awakened an indistinct; haunting reminiscence; as if she had seen
it in those day…dreams she had been so wont from infancy to
indulge。 She could not withdraw her gaze from that face; and as
she gazed; the awe and coldness that had before seized her;
vanished like a mist from before the sun。
In the dark splendour of the eyes that met her own there was
indeed so much of gentle encouragement; of benign and
compassionate admiration;so much that warmed; and animated; and
nerved;that any one; actor or orator; who has ever observed the
effect that a single earnest and kindly look in the crowd that is
to be addressed and won; will produce upon his mind; may readily
account for the sudden and inspiriting influence which the eye
and smile of the stranger exercised on the debutante。
And while yet she gazed; and the glow returned to her heart; the
stranger half rose; as if to recall the audience to a sense of
the courtesy due to one so fair and young; and the instant his
voice gave the signal; the audience followed it by a burst of
generous applause。 For this stranger himself was a marked
personage; and his recent arrival at Naples had divided with the
new opera the gossip of the city。 And then as the applause
ceased; clear; full; and freed from every fetter; like a spirit
from the clay; the Siren's voice poured forth its entrancing
music。 From that time Viola forgot the crowd; the hazard; the
whole world;except the fairy one over with she presided。 It
seemed that the stranger's presence only served still more to
heighten that delusion; in which the artist sees no creation
without the circle of his art; she felt as if that serene brow;
and those brilliant eyes; inspired her with powers never known
before: and; as if searching for a language to express the
strange sensations occasioned by his presence; that presence
itself whispered to her the melody and the song。
Only when all was over; and she saw her father and felt his joy;
did this wild spell vanish before the sweeter one of the
household and filial love。 Yet again; as she turned from the
stage; she looked back involuntarily; and the stranger's calm and
half…melancholy smile sank into her heart;to live there; to be
recalled with confused memories; half of pleasure; and half of
pain。
Pass over the congratulations of the good Cardinal…Virtuoso;
astonished at finding himself and all Naples had been hitherto in
the wrong on a subject of taste;still more astonished at
finding himself and all Naples combining to confess it; pass over
the whispered ecstasies of admiration which buzzed in the
singer's ear; as once more; in her modest veil and quiet dress;
she escaped from the crowd of gallants that choked up every
avenue behind the scenes; pass over the sweet embrace of father
and child; returning through the starlit streets and along the
deserted Chiaja in the Cardinal's carriage; never pause now to
note the tears and ejaculations of the good; simple…hearted
mother;see them returned; see the well…known room; venimus ad
larem nostrum (We come to our own house。); see old Gionetta
bustling at the supper; and hear Pisani; as he rouses the
barbiton from its case; communicating all that has happened to
the intelligent Familiar; hark to the mother's merry; low;
English laugh。 Why; Viola; strange child; sittest thou apart;
thy face leaning on thy fair hands; thine eyes fixed on space?
Up; rouse thee! Every dimple on the cheek of home must smile
to…night。 (〃Ridete quidquid est domi cachinnorum。〃 Catull。 〃ad
Sirm。 Penin。〃)
And a happy reunion it was round that humble table: a feast
Lucullus might have envied in his Hall of Apollo; in the dried
grapes; and the dainty sardines; and the luxurious polenta; and
the old lacrima a present from the good Cardinal。 The barbiton;
placed on a chaira tall; high…backed chairbeside the
musician; seemed to take a part in the festive meal。 Its honest
varnished face glowed in the light of the lamp; and there was an
impish; sly demureness in its very silence; as its master;
between every mouthful; turned to talk to it of something he had
forgotten to relate before。 The good wife looked on
affectionately; and could not eat for joy; but suddenly she rose;
and placed on the artist's temples a laurel wreath; which she had
woven beforehand in fond anticipation; and Viola; on the other
side her brother; the barbiton; rearranged the chaplet; and;
smoothing back her father's hair; whispered; 〃Caro Padre; you
will not let HIM scold me again!〃
Then poor Pisani; rather distracted between the two; and excited
both by the lacrima and his triumph; turned to the younger child
with so naive and grotesque a pride; 〃I don't know which to thank
the most。 You give me so much joy; child;I am so proud of thee
and myself。 But he and I; poor fellow; have been so often
unhappy together!〃
Viola's sleep was broken;that was natural。 The intoxication of
vanity and triumph; the happiness in the happiness she had
caused; all this was