Four Phases of Love

by Paul Heyse

It was not the first time that she had thus denied him. A year before, when the painter had just arrived at Lorento, it chanced one summer evening that Antonino and some other young fellows of the town were playing boicia on an open piece of ground near the High-street--then it was that the Neapolitan first saw Lauretta, who, bearing a water-jar on her head, swept by without seeming to notice his presence. Struck with her beauty, he stood gazing at her, forgetting that he was just in the centre of the play-ground, and might have cleared it in two steps. A ball, thrown by no friendly hand, struck him on the ancle, and reminded him that that was not the place to lose himself in reveries. He looked round as if he expected an apology; the young fisherman who had thrown the ball, stood silent and defiant amongst his companions, and the stranger thought it his best policy to avoid a discussion and go. But people had talked about the affair at the time, and spoke anew about it when the painter began openly to pay his court to Lauretta. "I do not know him," she had said angrily, when the painter asked her whether she refused him for the sake of this uncivil youth. And yet the story had reached her ears too; and since that time, whenever she met Antonino, she recognized him well enough.

And now they sat in the boat like the bitterest enemies, and the heart of each beat fiercely. Antonine's usually good-tempered face was deeply flushed. He struck his oars into the water till the foam splashed over them, and his lips moved from time to time as if he spoke evil words. She pretended not to observe it, put on her most indifferent expression, bent over the side of the boat and let the water run through her fingers; then she took off her handkerchief and arranged her hair as if she had been alone; only her eyebrows still drew together, and in vain she held her wet hand against her burning cheeks to cool them.

Now they reached the centre of the bay, and far or near there was not a sail to be seen--the island was far behind them, before them the coast lay bathed in sun-mist; not even a seamew broke in upon the intense solitude. Antonino glanced around him. An idea seemed to force its way through his mind; the flush fled quickly from his cheek, and he dropped the oars. In spite of herself, Lauretta looked around excited, but fearless.

"I must make an end of this," burst from the fisherman's lips; "it has lasted too long already; I wonder that it has not sent me mad before this! You do not know me, you say? Have you not long enough seen how I passed you like a madman, with my heart bursting to speak to you? You saw it, for then you put on your evil look and turned your back upon me."

"What had I to talk to you about?" she answered shortly. "I saw long ago that you wanted to attach yourself to me; but I do not want to be gossipped about for nothing, and less than nothing, for I will never marry you, neither you nor any one!"

"Nor any one? You will not always say that, because you sent away the painter. Bah! you were a child then. You will get lonesome some day, and then, mad as you are, you will take the first that comes."

"No one knows his future. Perhaps I may change my mind; what is it to you if I do?"

"What is it to me?" he cried, and sprang so violently from his seat that the boat rocked again. "What is that to me! and you can ask me that, when you know how I feel towards you? Unhappy shall it be for him who is received better than I have been!"

"Have I engaged myself to you? Am I to blame if you let your brain wander? What right have you over me?"

"Oh!" he cried, "truly is it not written down. No lawyer has signed it and sealed it. But I feel that I have as much right over you as I have to enter heaven if I die an honest man. Do you think that I will look on calmly when you go to church with another, and the girls pass by me and shrug their shoulders? Do you think that I will be so insulted?"