Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 129.djvu/38

30 set about the work of his education, having always before him a dim expectation that Annunziata would one day come back to Sorrento, be satisfied with the progress he had made, and consent to their speedy nuptials. That it might be well for him to seek her out was an idea that had not as yet suggested itself to him. He certainly was a young man of remarkable patience.

From old Marta, who was now in easy circumstances, thanks to the money sent her by her niece, he got occasional news of the triumphs of his beloved. Messages, too, were frequently transmitted to him from her at first; but as time went on these messages became rarer and rarer, and at last ceased altogether.

"She does not mention your name," Marta would say, impatiently, in answer to his repeated inquiries. "What would you have? She has other things and other people to think of now."

And then Luigi would walk sadly away, with his head bent down, and would not unfrequently quarrel with Bottiglia afterwards. He had long since confided his hopes to that worthy, who had laughed them to scorn till he found that by doing so he was in danger of losing his pupil, when he had, of course, adopted a different line of conduct. It was he who suggested that Luigi should write a letter to the absent fair one, and who undertook to compose for him such a one as should at once touch the heart of the recipient, and show her that the writer was a man of education and acquainted with the best literary style.

The letter, as despatched to Annunziata and received by her at Paris, ran as follows: —

"

"If the pleasures and gaieties of the fashionable world in which you move pre-eminent, like the moon among the stars, afford you time to cast a momentary glance backward to the rural scenes where your early years were passed, you may, I venture to hope, call to mind the name of the humblest and most devoted of your slaves. But I do not for one moment suppose that you can have forgotten me so soon.

" Fain would I strive to rouse in your bosom some interest in the concerns of the village which has the envied privilege of being your birthplace by recounting to you some matters of local importance; but, alas! signorina, there is but little to tell. Unlike that of the great cities of which you are the distinguished ornament, life in our sequestered valley (that is only a literary way of speaking—we do not, as you are aware, live in a valley) glides on tranquilly and smoothly, and each day is but the counterpart of that which has preceded it. Rather will I risk the accusation of egotism, and detain your attention for a few moments while I speak to you of myself.

"Following your wise and excellent counsel, signorina, I have of late devoted myself to the study of science and the arts, and I trust you will not accuse me of vanity when I add that I have not laboured altogether in vain. What success I have achieved I must ascribe entirely to the invaluable aid of Signor Antonio Bassano (you remember old Bottiglia), a gentleman in reduced circumstances, but of noble birth. So, at least, he says; but your aunt Marta declares she remembers his father, who kept a small wine-shop at Naples.

"Assisted by his most valuable instruction, I have become acquainted with both ancient and modern literature; and I cannot but think that the present letter—all unpretending as it is—will serve to show you that I am no longer the ignorant fisherman from whom you parted nearly three years ago. I wonder whether you remember that day as well as I do! It is not three years, but only two years and two months; but I did not say so for fear of spoiling the sentence.

"And now, signorina, that I may not weary you with too many words, let me at once approach the subject that is nearest to my heart. You know how passionate, how deep, how unalterable has been the affection that I have borne you ever since the time when, in our happy childhood, we sported together on the sandy shores of the azure Mediterranean. Say, oh say that the hopes which have buoyed me up for so long are not to be ruthlessly dashed to the ground! Break not the faithful heart that beats but for you! And believe that among all the aspiring lovers that doubtless surround you, there breathes none more true—none more impassioned than of your ladyship

"The most obedient, most humble servant,

"Postscriptum.—In truth, Annunziata, if you have forgotten your promise to me, my life will be over. The first letter I wrote contained a good deal more than this, but it seemed to me over long, so I have cut it short a little—especially towards the end.—L. R."