Naples once again saw me as a bride; not as at the first, blooming with health and joy, my mind in an ecstatic rhapsody of romance, but a woman chastened by experience, that best of monitors. Subdued, but not downcast, was my mien the morning of my bridal: the sobered happiness of my husband’s face was mirrored in mine, and surely I could not have had a more beautiful mirror.
And in that marriage I was supremely happy; my life glided like a fairy dream away. The elegance of mind and manner which captivated at first, did not prove, on mature acquaintance, a fictitious dress, worn merely for ornament. Judgment, tempered by feeling, guided him, and in obeying such a guide, how could he fail to act rightly? The calm good sense, the nobility of soul, and sweet disposition of Alfieri, day by day, more completely gained my love and esteem.
Before leaving Naples, on a journey we took, soon after our marriage, to the north of Italy, I chanced to meet in the suburbs of the town—while walking with my husband—old Acte, the sybil of the rock. She stopped my way, and looking at me with her piercing eyes, said, “Well, fair lady, we meet again: I knew we should; and the other, where is she? You need not tell me: I know already;—she is dead. She lies on the shore, where the winds howl and the waters beat. Say, lady, say, have not my words proved true?” demanded she, in her shrill tones.
“Yes, good woman, you were right,” was my hasty reply, as I and my husband hurried away, anxious to avoid any farther conversation with the weird-woman.
Soon after we took our departure on a tour through the north of Europe. Those magnificent cities, beautiful scenery, and the different nations we visited, acquired new interest in my eyes, when viewed in such society. Then, after we had satiated our eyes and ears with the wonders of other lands, we came finally to the Eternal City, where I have had the pleasure of forming your acquaintance; and I number it as one of the most agreeable episodes of my life: so, also, does my husband.
My tale is done. You have asked it of me, and knowing your integrity, I feel no hesitancy in complying with the request. The hours I have passed in your studio have been among the pleasantest I have spent in Rome.
Should the count and myself never have the pleasure of seeing you again, at least the copy of my portrait and this diary will seem to be an invisible link to the chain of thoughts between us three.
Adieu, dear Signor Carrara: we shall leave to-morrow, and have completed this in haste to leave with you.
Genevra Calabrella.
Rome, April 6th, ——