Every one who has crossed, on a beautiful summer night, the sea that washes those enchanted shores, has doubtless experienced the undefinable impression of mingled delight and peace, enthusiasm and dreaminess, that sometimes comes over one while watching the stars becoming more intense in their brilliancy, and the luminous sea like a widespread mirror reflecting the immensity of the heavens. We grew silent, and after a time I rose and went to the side of the ship to contemplate more fully the beauty [pg 602] of the night, and there, with uplifted face and clasped hands, one of those inarticulate prayers rose from my heart in which the happiness of the present moment is confounded with admiration for the wonders of the divine creation, and the soul truly feels itself greater than the entire universe, because it alone has the power to render thanks to Him who not only created it but the whole world.
Lorenzo had followed me, and taken a seat on the bench that ran along the side of the ship, where, with his head leaning on one hand, and his back to the sea, he sat intently gazing at me. Filled with devout thoughts, I took his hand, and, pressing it in mine, I said: “O my dear husband! let us offer up one short prayer together—a prayer of thanksgiving to God....” His only reply was to seize both of my hands, and kiss them one after the other, and then to laugh gently, as one would at the prattling of a child!... A sudden sensation of pain darted through my heart like an arrow; and if it had not been so dark, he might have seen how pale I at once turned. But he did not notice or suspect my emotion, though his eyes were fastened on my face. “Beatrice in suso, ed io in lei guardava,”[138] he said in his most caressing tone. Then he continued: “Your eyes are my heaven, Ginevra. I need not raise them any higher.”
The sentiment to which I had appealed was one so utterly unknown to him that he unconsciously destroyed the emotion I felt.
“Ah! Lorenzo,” I exclaimed in my anguish, “Dante had a different meaning, or Beatrice would not have allowed him to use such language.” Then I stopped, obeying for the first time the instinctive feeling, so painful but right, that checks every word on a woman's lips which, as has been so well expressed, would be profaned if not understood.
But this was rather instinctive than the result of thought with me. And though the ray of truth that time was to reveal more fully was vivid, it was only transient, ... and my momentary disappointment left no permanent impression at the time, though I did not forget it, and the recollection came back at a later day.
Coming from Sicily, the sight of the Bay of Naples does not, of course, inspire the same degree of wonder and admiration felt by those who come from the north; but it was with a feeling of delight my eyes wandered around, after passing Capri, and beheld at the right the wonderful chain of mountains at whose foot lies the charming shore of Sorrento; at the left Posilippo and all the pleasant villas that crown its height; in front the marked outline of Vesuvius standing out against the majestic Apennines in the distance; and, finally, Naples, smiling and lovely, seated on the inner shore of its beautiful bay! Whatever may be said as to the possibility of finding anywhere else in the world a prospect as magnificent as this, and even if it is true that there is one, it would be impossible to remember it when the view I have just described is presented to the eye for the first time.
While we were thus rapidly crossing the bay, and I was gazing on every side with delight, Lorenzo pointed out the Villa Reale, beyond which stood the house we were to live in, surrounded by a [pg 603] large garden—a charming habitation which combined all the attractions of the country and all the advantages of the city, and which, when I entered it for the first time, seemed like a beautiful frame to the sunny picture of my future life.
On this occasion we only remained a fortnight at Naples; but this was sufficient to make me appreciate my new home, and the prospect of returning to it an additional pleasure in the journey before us. It is, in fact, only pleasant to travel around the world when we can see in imagination a place awaiting us where some day we are to find rest and deposit the treasures we have accumulated.... Happily for me, I was then far from foreseeing those I should have to bring back when I returned to this spot!...
The day after our arrival Lorenzo took me for the first time into his studio, where I was filled with astonishment at the exquisite perfection of the productions I found there. I had often heard him called a great artist, and I now realized it was no idle flattery. But I involuntarily turned my eyes away from many of them, and stood gazing with admiration at a statue which was incontestably the finest in the gallery. It represented a young girl whose flowing drapery was marvellous in execution and grace. Her face, though perfectly beautiful, had an expression of grief and terror. A lamp stood at her feet, but the light had gone out.
Lorenzo's pride as an artist had never been gratified with a more lively or more naïve admiration than mine.