“You seem to lay too much stress on this fantastic apology,” answered the Doge, contemptuously; “at least you cannot expect that it should have much weight with me.”
“I say it once more, my lord,” resumed Flodoardo, while he rose from the ground, “that I intend to make no apology; I mean not to excuse my love for Rosabella, but to request your approbation of that love. Andreas, I adore your niece; I demand her for my bride.”
The Doge started in astonishment at this bold and unexpected request.
“It is true,” continued the Florentine, “I am no more than a needy, unknown youth, and it seems a piece of strange temerity when such a man proposes himself to espouse the heiress of the Venetian Doge. But, by Heaven, I am confident that the great Andreas means not to bestow his Rosabella on one of those whose claims to favour are overflowing coffers, extensive territories, and sounding titles, or who vainly decorate their insignificance with the glory obtained by the titles of their ancestors, glory of which they are themselves incapable of acquiring a single ray. I acknowledge freely that I have as yet performed no actions which make me deserving of such a reward as Rosabella; but it shall not be long ere I will perform such actions, or perish in the attempt.”
The Doge turned from him with a look of displeasure.
“Oh, be not incensed with him, dear uncle,” said Rosabella. She hastened to detain the Doge, threw her white arms around his neck fondly, and concealed in his bosom the tears with which her countenance was bedewed.
“Make your demands,” continued Flodoardo, still addressing himself to the Doge; “say what you wish me to do, and what you would have me become, in order to obtain from you the hand of Rosabella. Ask what you will, I will look on the task, however difficult, as nothing more than sport and pastime. By Heaven, I would that Venice were at this moment exposed to the most imminent danger, and that ten thousand daggers were unsheathed against your life; Rosabella my reward—how certain should I be to rescue Venice, and strike the ten thousand daggers down.”
“I have served the Republic faithfully and fervently for many a long year,” answered Andreas, with a bitter smile; “I have risked my life without hesitation; I have shed my blood with profusion; I asked nothing for my reward but to pass my old age in soft tranquillity, and of this reward have I been cheated. My bosom friends, the companions of my youth, the confidants of my age, have been torn from me by the daggers of banditti; and you, Flodoardo, you, on whom I heaped all favours, have now deprived me of this my only remaining comfort. Answer me, Rosabella; hast thou in truth bestowed thy heart on Flodoardo irrevocably?”
One hand of Rosabella’s still rested on her uncle’s shoulder; with the other she clasped Flodoardo’s and pressed it fondly against her heart—yet Flodoardo seemed still unsatisfied. No sooner had the Doge’s question struck his ear, than his countenance became dejected; and though his hand returned the pressure of Rosabella’s, he shook his head mournfully, with an air of doubt, and cast on her a penetrating look, as would he have read the secrets of her inmost soul.
Andreas withdrew himself gently from Rosabella’s arm, and for some time paced the apartment slowly, with a countenance sad and earnest. Rosabella sank upon a sofa which stood near her, and wept. Flodoardo eyed the Doge, and waited for his decision with impatience.