The mistress of our youth revives,
and strokes the young man's hair. Our heart, too full, overflows; we
see the flowery banks of the torrent of love. Every burning bush we
ever knew blazes afresh, and repeats the heavenly words we once heard
and understood. The voice rolls on; it embraces in its rapid turns
those fugitive horizons, and they shrink away; they vanish, eclipsed
by newer and deeper joys--those of an unrevealed future, to which the
fairy points as she returns to the blue heaven."
"And you," retorted Cataneo, "have you never seen the direct ray of a
star opening the vistas above; have you never mounted on that beam
which guides you to the sky, to the heart of the first causes which
move the worlds?"
To their hearers, the Duke and Capraja were playing a game of which
the premises were unknown.
"Genovese's voice thrills through every fibre," said Capraja.
"And la Tinti's fires the blood," replied the Duke.
"What a paraphrase of happy love is that _cavatina_!" Capraja went on.
"Ah! Rossini was young when he wrote that interpretation of
effervescent ecstasy.
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