"Bright May--the sweetest month of Spring; The trees and fields with flowers are strown-- Dear Heart, to thee Life's May I bring; Take it and keep it for thine own-- Nay--draw the knife!--I will not start, Pierce if thou wilt, my willing breast. There thou shalt find my faithful heart Whose truth in death shall stand confessed."
These words, sung in the Roman dialect to a very simple air, came quavering out of the open window of the drawing-room of the Sterzls' palazetto as Sempaly passed by it that evening; he had gone out to pay some visits, to divert his mind, and though his way did not take him along the side street in which the palazetto stood, he had not been able to resist the temptation to make a detour. It was a mild evening and the tones floated down like an invitation; he recognized Zinka's voice as she sang one of the melancholy Stornelli in which the peasants of the Campagna give utterance to their loves. It ceased, and he was just moving away, when another even sweeter and more piercing lament broke the warm silence.
"Or shall I die?--Poison itself could have
No terrors if I took it from thy hand.
Thy heart should be my death-bed and my grave."
The passionate words were sung with subdued vehemence to a rather monotonous tune--like a faded wreath of spring flowers borne along by some murmuring stream. He turned back, and listened with suspended breath. The song ended on a long, full note; he felt that he would give God knows how much to hear the last line once more:
'La sepoltura mia sara il tuo seno!....'
Now Zinka was speaking--it vexed him beyond measure that he could not hear what she was saying. It was maddening ... Good heavens! what a fool he was to stand fretting outside!
When he went into the drawing-room to his great surprise he was met by Sterzl.
"Back so soon?" he exclaimed as he shook hands with him.
"Yes, Arnstein had only two days to spare in Naples," replied Sterzl; "I was delighted to see him again, but--well, I must be growing very old, I was so glad to find myself at home again," and he drew his sister to him and lightly stroked her pretty brown hair. His brotherly caress added to Sempaly's excitement "No wonder that you like your home!" he was saying, when the baroness appeared with an evening wrap on her shoulders, a fan and scent-bottle in her hand, and, as usual, dying of refinement and airs.