“I could not, Signor, conscientiously devote myself to a religious life—when I knew myself in no way fitted for it.”
“I understand; you wished to act a part in the world; you were right. Your parents were wrong to decide for you prematurely. I like your frankness and simplicity, Giuseppe. You may look upon me as a friend.”
This was said in the lofty tone of a patron. The young man bowed in apparent humility and gratitude.
“You rendered me a service last night, at great risk to yourself—ay, and some injury, too!” Here he noticed, for the first time, a slight wound on the cheek of his young visitor.
“Oh, it is nothing, Signor!” cried Giuseppe, really embarrassed that so slight a hurt should be alluded to.
“You may esteem it such, but I do not forget that I owe you thanks for your timely aid; nor do I fail to observe that you are modest as brave. I perceive, also, that you have talents, and lack, perhaps, the means of cultivating them. In such a case, you will not find me an ungenerous patron. In what way can I assist you now?”
Tartini made no reply, for his head was full of confused ideas. His former purposes and plans were wholly forgotten. The Count remarked his embarrassment, and graciously gave him permission to go home for the present and consider what he had said.
The young man lingered a moment before the door, and stole a glance upward, hoping to see once more the angelic face that had smiled upon him; but the window was closed and all was silent. He departed with a feeling of sadness and disappointment at his heart. He knew not how powerful an advocate he had in the bosom of the maiden herself. Under the sun of Italy love is a plant that springs up spontaneously; and the handsome face and form of the youth who had perilled his life to save her from harm had already impressed deeply the fancy of the susceptible girl. Unseen herself, she watched his departure from her father’s house; and, impelled by something more than mere feminine curiosity, immediately descended to know the particulars of his visit. It was to be supposed that her woman’s wit could point out some way in which the haughty Count could discharge his obligation to the humble student. And she failed not to suggest such a way.
Two days after, Giuseppe was surprised by a message from the Count di Cornaro, proposing that he should become his daughter’s tutor in music, and offering a liberal salary. With what eagerness, with what trembling delight he accepted the offer! How did his heart beat, as he strove in the Count’s presence to conceal the wild rapture he felt, under a semblance of respect and downcast humility! How resolutely did he turn his eyes from the face of his beautiful pupil, lest he should become quite frantic with his new joy, and lest the passion that filled his breast should betray itself in his looks! As if it were possible long to conceal it from the bewitching object!