Picciola : $b The prisoner of Fenestrella or, captivity captiveSaintine, X.-B. (Xavier-Boniface)
General
Picciola : $b The prisoner of Fenestrella or, captivity captive
Saintine, X.-B. (Xavier-Boniface)
Prisoners -- Fiction
Innumerable blossoms already studded his beautiful plant: towards
evening their exhalations were as delicious as they were potent; and
at that moment, what a relief to the weary captive to draw near to his
favourite! He now constructed a rude bench, with some planks derived from
the munificence of Ludovico, and pointed a few logs, which he contrived
to insert into the interstices of the pavement. A rough plank, nailed
transversely, afforded him a leaning place, as he sat for hours musing
and meditating in the fragrant atmosphere of his plant. He was happier
there than he had ever felt on his silken ottomans of former days; and
hour after hour would he sit reflecting on his wasted youth, which had
elapsed without the attainment of a single real pleasure, or genuine
affection! withering away in the midst of vain chimeras and premature
satiety.
Often, after such retrospections, Charney found himself gradually soothed
into reveries between sleep and waking; his senses subdued into a sort
of apathetic torpor, his imagination excited to a visionary ecstasy,
perplexing the desolate Count with scenes of days past and days to come.
He sometimes fancied himself in the midst of those brilliant fêtes,
where, though himself the victim of ennui, he used to lavish upon others
all the pleasures and luxuries of life. He seemed to stand gazing, some
night of the Carnival, beside the illuminated façade of his hotel in the
Rue de Verneuil, the rolling of a thousand carriages vibrating in his
ear. One by one, they entered, by torchlight, his circular courtyard,
depositing successively in the vestibule, covered with rich carpets,
and protected by silken hangings, the fashionable belles of the day,
enveloped in costly furs, under which was audible the rustling of satin
or brocade; the beaux of the imperial court, with their high-crowned
hats, cravats up to their ears, and redundant knee strings; artists of
eminence, with naked throats, Brutus-heads, and a costume half French,
half Greek; and men of science or letters, wearing the distinctive
academic collar of green. A crowd of lackeys clustered on all sides,
insolently defying, under their new liveries, the absolute decrees of the
once puissant conventional republic of France.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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