Four Phases of Love

by Paul Heyse

So he reached his dwelling; he lighted his lamp and sat down to write. He began a letter to Mary, calm and gentle--after the first few lines, the lie became apparent--for it seethed and boiled and surged within him, till he threw the pen upon the table, and sprang up to go--he knew not whither. At last he went again into the night, towards Bianchi's house. Should he seek him out, tell him all? conceal all from him? or only in his neighbourhood struggle for decision and composure? He knew not clearly--but solitude he could not bear.

Only a young and narrow moon stood above the roofs, but the houses were bright, the windows and balconies alive with people. Along the Corso rolled a gay stream of careless promenaders, refreshing themselves in the cool evening; laughing girlish faces, foreign and Roman, lightly dressed, as they had just escaped from the close rooms. The street was like a long corridor near a ball-room, where the company wander in cool twilight between the dances. Here and there music floated through the open windows, and a girl's voice amongst the crowd sang lightly to the air.

Theodore was obliged to cross the stream. He seemed to himself like one departed, who has nothing more to do with life, but who is forced to revisit some friend in order to reveal to him some forgotten duty before he departs for ever. He buried himself in the small deserted streets which lead down to the Tiber, and passed along without the power of grasping any one train of thought firmly; at last, wearied by the fruitless endeavour, he let his spirit dive along the empty waste of sorrow, as across a shoreless, waveless sea.

Thus he reached a part of the river bank called the Ripa Grande, where the boats lie which ply to Ostia and to the little post steamer and other shipping; from there down to the Ripetta there are still some hundred paces, and no direct connection by the water. He turned, however, to the right, towards the broader street, as a loud altercation reached his ears from the summit of the landing-steps. He heard the sound of a voice through it which made him stop suddenly; he approached the crowd, the individuals composing which he could only distinguish gradually by the light of a flaring street lamp. The dispute seemed to be about a girl that a sailor had seized by the arm and was endeavouring to drag off--another tried to separate them--"Let her go, Pietro;" he cried. "How long have you taken cargoes of women, kidnapper that you are? See, she is crying, poor thing! she does not want to go back into your hole of a cabin, she has good reasons--"

"The devil take you!" shouted the other, dragging at the girl. "She will have reasons enough! But the man who brought her, and paid me well too, said, 'Ship her to Ostia and place her in safe hands there, and take care she don't get back again.' He had his reasons too, I fancy, and reasons that he backed with good arguments. The baggage! She has been up to some mischief! If she was the blessed innocent she pretends to be now, why did she not make a fuss when the man brought her? But what do you think? then she was as quiet as a mouse, only cried and sobbed, and kissed the man till it made him quite sad, and he promised to come and see her in Ostia; and now, why should she take a fancy to run away--the cat! as soon as I turned my back--and struggled and screamed half along the street when I wanted to do my duty and place her in safety again? Tell me that if you can! No! away with the witch, and hold your jaw; and accidenti on any one who gets in my way."

"I cannot, I will not go back," cried the girl's voice: "this man is false; he insulted me shamefully; he breaks his agreement; save me!"

"Who will believe you, you liar! who only lie to get away, and to abuse me? Away with your hands, I say, and back to the cabin."

"Halt!" thundered a voice suddenly. The contending parties turned round startled, and saw Theodore breaking through the crowd to place his hand on the girl's arm. "She is mine." he cried, "and goes with me."

There was a pause. Caterina had recognized the young man instantaneously. Wavering between joy and bitter doubt, she stood with downcast eyes.

"Do you take us for children?" cried the sailor, "to think that we are going to be made fools of by the first fellow who comes by? If you want a sweetheart, you will find plenty on the Corso for gold and good words. Who told you to thrust your oar in, and with a style as if you had the best right in the world?"