By one of those strange and abrupt
manifestations of moral elasticity, Andrea experienced a sudden sense of
relief, not to say gaiety. In a moment, he had forgotten his sentimental
and passionate pre-occupations, and all that now appealed to him--to his
vanity, to his corrupt senses--was the licentious aspect of the affair.
He thought to himself that in granting him these little innocent
rendezvous, Donna Maria had already set her foot on the gentle downward
slope of the path at the bottom of which lies sin, inevitable even to
the most vigilant soul; he also argued that doubtless a little touch of
jealousy would do much towards bringing Elena back to his arms and that
thus the one intrigue would help on the other--was it not a vague fear,
a jealous foreboding that had made Donna Maria consent so quickly to
their next meeting? He saw himself, therefore, well on the way to a
two-fold conquest, and he could not repress a smile as he reflected that
in both adventures the chief difficulty presented itself under the same
guise: both women professed a wish to play the part of sister to him; it
was for him to transform these sisters in something closer. He remarked
upon other resemblances between the two--That voice! How curiously like
Elena's were some tones in Donna Maria's voice! A mad thought flashed
through his brain. That voice might furnish him with the elements of a
study of imagination--by virtue of that affinity, he might resolve the
two fair women into one, and thus possess a third, imaginary, mistress,
more complex, more perfect, more _true_ because she would be ideal----
The third movement, executed in faultless style, finished in a burst of
applause.
Pages:
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319