Page:Francesca Carrara 2.pdf/131

128 a tender pleasure in the mournful—to them tears are a luxurious melancholy; but I enjoyed the escape from my own dark thoughts,—my sullen nature found relief in her joyous temper; it was not afflicted by gloomy likenesses of my own moods. Nothing in her reminded me of myself.

"Weeks passed away, and every evening was spent in Carrara's studio. We spoke but little, but the silence was charmed. I scarcely desired a greater delight than to know that her sweet breath was on the air, and that I needed only to raise my eyes from the volume and they rested on her face. I did dream of a delicious future, and I was encouraged by her father's obvious predilection. My career seemed promising; for I had had the office of secretary offered me by the Bishop of Padua, who needed one well versed in the modern tongues.

"But though this future haunted me till it became delicious certainty in my absence; yet, when by her side, the moment grew all-sufficient. I feared to disturb, even by increase, the perfect happiness of her presence. I accepted the place of secretary; its duties left the evenings still my own, and the thought of those few hours lightened the labours of the day. Every time I went to Carrara's house, I believed that some blessed