A Sicilian Romance | Page 9

merit, alleges, that you are by nature fickle and
inconstant. What say you--would not the beauty of lady Julia bind your
unsteady heart?'.
'I know not how I have deserved that character of the marchioness,' said
the count with a smile, 'but that heart must be either fickle or insensible

in an uncommon degree, which can boast of freedom in the presence of
lady Julia.' The marchioness, mortified by the whole conversation, now
felt the full force of Vereza's reply, which she imagined he pointed with
particular emphasis.
The entertainment concluded with a grand firework, which was
exhibited on the margin of the sea, and the company did not part till the
dawn of morning. Julia retired from the scene with regret. She was
enchanted with the new world that was now exhibited to her, and she
was not cool enough to distinguish the vivid glow of imagination from
the colours of real bliss. The pleasure she now felt she believed would
always be renewed, and in an equal degree, by the objects which first
excited it. The weakness of humanity is never willingly perceived by
young minds. It is painful to know, that we are operated upon by
objects whose impressions are variable as they are indefinable--and that
what yesterday affected us strongly, is to-day but imperfectly felt, and
to-morrow perhaps shall be disregarded. When at length this
unwelcome truth is received into the mind, we at first reject, with
disgust, every appearance of good, we disdain to partake of a happiness
which we cannot always command, and we not unfrequently sink into a
temporary despair. Wisdom or accident, at length, recal us from our
error, and offers to us some object capable of producing a pleasing, yet
lasting effect, which effect, therefore, we call happiness. Happiness has
this essential difference from what is commonly called pleasure, that
virtue forms its basis, and virtue being the offspring of reason, may be
expected to produce uniformity of effect.
The passions which had hitherto lain concealed in Julia's heart, touched
by circumstance, dilated to its power, and afforded her a slight
experience of the pain and delight which flow from their influence. The
beauty and accomplishments of Vereza raised in her a new and various
emotion, which reflection made her fear to encourage, but which was
too pleasing to be wholly resisted. Tremblingly alive to a sense of
delight, and unchilled by disappointment, the young heart welcomes
every feeling, not simply painful, with a romantic expectation that it
will expand into bliss.

Julia sought with eager anxiety to discover the sentiments of Vereza
towards her; she revolved each circumstance of the day, but they
afforded her little satisfaction; they reflected only a glimmering and
uncertain light, which instead of guiding, served only to perplex her.
Now she remembered some instance of particular attention, and then
some mark of apparent indifference. She compared his conduct with
that of the other young noblesse; and thought each appeared equally
desirous of the favor of every lady present. All the ladies, however,
appeared to her to court the admiration of Vereza, and she trembled lest
he should be too sensible of the distinction. She drew from these
reflections no positive inference; and though distrust rendered pain the
predominate sensation, it was so exquisitely interwoven with delight,
that she could not wish it exchanged for her former ease. Thoughtful
and restless, sleep fled from her eyes, and she longed with impatience
for the morning, which should again present Vereza, and enable her to
pursue the enquiry. She rose early, and adorned herself with unusual
care. In her favorite closet she awaited the hour of breakfast, and
endeavoured to read, but her thoughts wandered from the subject. Her
lute and favorite airs lost half their power to please; the day seemed to
stand still--she became melancholy, and thought the breakfast-hour
would never arrive. At length the clock struck the signal, the sound
vibrated on every nerve, and trembling she quitted the closet for her
sister's apartment. Love taught her disguise. Till then Emilia had shared
all her thoughts; they now descended to the breakfast-room in silence,
and Julia almost feared to meet her eye. In the breakfast-room they
were alone. Julia found it impossible to support a conversation with
Emilia, whose observations interrupting the course of her thoughts,
became uninteresting and tiresome. She was therefore about to retire to
her closet, when the marquis entered. His air was haughty, and his look
severe. He coldly saluted his daughters, and they had scarcely time to
reply to his general enquiries, when the marchioness entered, and the
company soon after assembled. Julia, who had awaited with so painful
an impatience for the moment which should present Vereza to her sight,
now sighed that it was arrived. She scarcely dared to lift