The grateful pupil and the pleased instructor did their best. When the service was over, Father Boëmo took his young friend by the arm and led him into the parlor of the convent.
A lady of stately and graceful form, her face concealed by a veil, stood between two distinguished looking men, one in the robes of a cardinal. Tartini gave but one glance; the next instant—“Leonora!—my wife!” burst from his lips, and he clasped her, fainting, in his arms.
“Receive our blessing, children,” said the cardinal Cornaro. “Years of religious seclusion, Giuseppe, have rendered thee more worthy of the happiness thou art now to possess. Not to the wild disobedient youth, but to the man of tried worth, do I give my niece. Give him thy hand, Leonora.”
The young couple joined hands, and the cardinal pronounced over them a solemn benediction.
“In one thing, my son, thou art to blame,” he resumed—“in hiding thyself from us, instead of trusting our clemency. We have sought thee, not for the purpose of vengeance, but to restore thee to thy wife and country. But for a happy chance, we should still have been ignorant of the place of thy retreat. Yet Heaven orders all for the best. Sorrow has done a noble work with thee.”
“And it has made thee only more beautiful—my beloved!” whispered the happy artist, “my own Leonora—mine—mine forever!”
We do not question the sincerity of Tartini’s joy at his reunion with his lovely wife. But we must have our own opinion of his constancy, when, not long after, we find him leaving her side and flying from Venice for fear of the rivalship of Veracini, a celebrated violin-player from Florence. Perhaps this want of confidence was necessary to the development of his qualities as an artist. But we leave his after life with his biographer. One thing, however, is certain; of all his compositions, the most admirable and the most celebrated is “The Devil’s Sonata.”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lalande, to whom Tartini himself communicated this curious anecdote, relates it in his Travels in Italy.