Pauline\'s Passion and Punishment
PAULINE'S PASSION and PUNISHMENT Chapter I To and fro, like a wild creature in its cage, paced that handsome woman, with bent head, locked hands, and restless steps. Some mental storm, swift and sudden as a tempest of the tropics, had swept over her and left its marks behind. As if in anger at the beauty now proved powerless, all ornaments had been flung away, yet still it shone undimmed, and filled her with a passionate regret. A jewel glittered at her feet, leaving the lace rent to shreds on the indignant bosom that had worn it; the wreaths of hair that had crowned her with a woman's most womanly adornment fell disordered upon shoulders that gleamed the fairer for the scarlet of the pomegranate flowers clinging to the bright
no further use, still showing her that he can never forget her! What
fireworks of triumph! what a rush of glad and rippling song go up from
the two young voices (first and second soprano) of Ayesha and Hafsa,
supported by Ali and his wife, by Omar and Abubekir! Weep!--rejoice!
--Triumph and tears! Such is life."
Marianna could not control her tears, and Andrea was so deeply moved
that his eyes were moist. The Neapolitan cook was startled by the
magnetic influence of the ideas expressed by Gambara's convulsive
accents.
The composer looked round, saw the group, and smiled.
"At last you understand me!" said he.
No conqueror, led in pomp to the Capitol under the purple beams of
glory, as the crown was placed on his head amid the acclamations of a
nation, ever wore such an expression. The composer's face was radiant,
like that of a holy martyr. No one dispelled the error. A terrible
smile parted Marianna's lips. The Count was appalled by the
guilelessness of this mania.
"Act III," said the enchanted musician, reseating himself at the
piano. "(_Andantino, solo_.) Mahomet in his seraglio, surrounded by
women, but not happy. Quartette of Houris (A major). What pompous
harmony, what trills as of ecstatic nightingales! Modulation (into F
PAULINE'S PASSION and PUNISHMENT Chapter I To and fro, like a wild creature in its cage, paced that handsome woman, with bent head, locked hands, and restless steps. Some mental storm, swift and sudden as a tempest of the tropics, had swept over her and left its marks behind. As if in anger at the beauty now proved powerless, all ornaments had been flung away, yet still it shone undimmed, and filled her with a passionate regret. A jewel glittered at her feet, leaving the lace rent to shreds on the indignant bosom that had worn it; the wreaths of hair that had crowned her with a woman's most womanly adornment fell disordered upon shoulders that gleamed the fairer for the scarlet of the pomegranate flowers clinging to the bright