MARRIAGE
The day after Ginevra was driven from her father's house she went to ask Madame Servin for asylum and protection until the period fixed by law for her marriage to Luigi.
Here began for her that apprenticeship to trouble which the world strews about the path of those who do not follow its conventions.
Madame Servin received her very coldly, being much annoyed by the harm which Ginevra's affair had inflicted on her husband, and told her, in politely cautious words, that she must not count on her help in future.Too proud to persist, but amazed at a selfishness hitherto unknown to her, the girl took a room in the lodging-house that was nearest to that of Luigi.The son of the Portas passed all his days at the feet of his future wife; and his youthful love, the purity of his words, dispersed the clouds from the mind of the banished daughter;the future was so beautiful as he painted it that she ended by smiling joyfully, though without forgetting her father's severity.
One morning the servant of the lodging house brought to Ginevra's room a number of trunks and packages containing stuffs, linen, clothes, and a great quantity of other articles necessary for a young wife in setting up a home of her own.In this welcome provision she recognized her mother's foresight, and, on examining the gifts, she found a purse, in which the baroness had put the money belonging to her daughter, adding to it the amount of her own savings.The purse was accompanied by a letter, in which the mother implored the daughter to forego the fatal marriage if it were still possible to do so.It had cost her, she said, untold difficulty to send these few things to her daughter; she entreated her not to think her hard if, henceforth, she were forced to abandon her to want; she feared she could never again assist her; but she blessed her and prayed for her happiness in this fatal marriage, if, indeed, she persisted in making it, assuring her that she should never cease to think of her darling child.Here the falling tears had effaced some words of the letter.
"Oh, mother!" cried Ginevra, deeply moved.
She felt the impulse to rush home, to breathe the blessed air of her father's house, to fling herself at his feet, to see her mother.She was springing forward to accomplish this wish, when Luigi entered.At the mere sight of him her filial emotion vanished; her tears were stopped, and she no longer had the strength to abandon that loving and unfortunate youth.To be the sole hope of a noble being, to love him and then abandon him!--that sacrifice is the treachery of which young hearts are incapable.Ginevra had the generosity to bury her own grief and suffering silently in her soul.
The marriage day arrived.Ginevra had no friend with her.While she was dressing, Luigi fetched the witnesses necessary to sign the certificate of marriage.These witnesses were worthy persons; one, a cavalry sergeant, was under obligations to Luigi, contracted on the battlefield, obligations which are never obliterated from the heart of an honest man; the other, a master-mason, was the proprietor of the house in which the young couple had hired an apartment for their future home.Each witness brought a friend, and all four, with Luigi, came to escort the bride.Little accustomed to social functions, and seeing nothing in the service they were rendering to Luigi but a simple matter of business, they were dressed in their ordinary clothes, without any luxury, and nothing about them denoted the usual joy of a marriage procession.
Ginevra herself was dressed simply, as befitted her present fortunes;and yet her beauty was so noble and so imposing that the words of greeting died away on the lips of the witnesses, who supposed themselves obliged to pay her some usual compliments.They bowed to her with respect, and she returned the bow; but they did so in silence, looking at her with admiration.This reserve cast a chill over the whole party.Joy never bursts forth freely except among those who are equals.Thus chance determined that all should be dull and grave around the bridal pair; nothing reflected, outwardly, the happiness that reigned within their hearts.
The church and the mayor's office being near by, Luigi and Ginevra, followed by the four witnesses required by law, walked the distance, with a simplicity that deprived of all pomp this greatest event in social life.They saw a crowd of waiting carriages in the mayor's court-yard; and when they reached the great hall where the civil marriages take place, they found two other wedding-parties impatiently awaiting the mayor's arrival.
Ginevra sat down beside Luigi at the end of a long bench; their witnesses remained standing, for want of seats.Two brides, elaborately dressed in white, with ribbons, laces, and pearls, and crowned with orange-blossoms whose satiny petals nodded beneath their veils, were surrounded by joyous families, and accompanied by their mothers, to whom they looked up, now and then, with eyes that were content and timid both; the faces of all the rest reflected happiness, and seemed to be invoking blessings on the youthful pairs.Fathers, witnesses, brothers, and sisters went and came, like a happy swarm of insects disporting in the sun.Each seemed to be impressed with the value of this passing moment of life, when the heart finds itself within two hopes,--the wishes of the past, the promises of the future.
As she watched them, Ginevra's heart swelled within her; she pressed Luigi's arm, and gave him a look.A tear rolled from the eyes of the young Corsican; never did he so well understand the joys that his Ginevra was sacrificing to him.That precious tear caused her to forget all else but him,--even the abandonment in which she sat there.
