"Hast thou grown so poisonous, that this deadly insect perishes by thybreath?"At that moment, a rich, sweet voice came floating up from thegarden: "Giovanni! Giovanni! It is past the hour! Why tarriest thou!
Come down!"
"Yes," muttered Giovanni again. "She is the only being whom mybreath may not slay! Would that it might!"He rushed down, and in an instant, was standing before the brightand loving eyes of Beatrice. A moment ago, his wrath and despair hadbeen so fierce that he could have desired nothing so much as to witherher by a glance. But, with her actual presence, there cameinfluences which had too real an existence to be at once shaken off;recollections of the delicate and benign power of her feminine nature,which had so often enveloped him in a religious calm; recollections ofmany a holy and passionate outgush of her heart, when the purefountain had been unsealed from its depths, and made visible in itstransparency to his mental eye; recollections which, had Giovanniknown how to estimate them, would have assured him that all thisugly mystery was but an earthly illusion, and that, whatever mist ofevil might seem to have gathered over her, the real Beatrice was aheavenly angel. Incapable as he was of such high faith, still herpresence had not utterly lost its magic. Giovanni's rage was quelledinto an aspect of sullen insensibility. Beatrice, with a quickspiritual sense, immediately felt that there was a gulf of blacknessbetween them, which neither he nor she could pass. They walked ontogether, sad and silent, and came thus to the marble fountain, and toits pool of water on the ground, in the midst of which grew theshrub that bore gem-like blossoms. Giovanni was affrighted at theeager enjoyment- the appetite, as it were- with which he found himselfinhaling the fragrance of the flowers.
"Beatrice," asked he abruptly, "whence came this shrub!""My father created it," answered she, with simplicity.
"Created it! created it!" repeated Giovanni. "What mean you,Beatrice?""He is a man fearfully acquainted with the secrets of nature,"replied Beatrice; "and, at the hour when I first drew breath, thisplant sprang from the soil, the offspring of his science, of hisintellect, while I was but his earthly child. Approach it not!"continued she, observing with terror that Giovanni was drawingnearer to the shrub. "It has qualities that you little dream of. ButI, dearest Giovanni- I grew up and blossomed with the plant, and wasnourished with its breath. It was my sister, and I loved it with ahuman affection: for- alas! hast thou not suspected it? there was anawful doom." Here Giovanni frowned so darkly upon her that Beatricepaused and trembled. But her faith in his tenderness reassured her,and made her blush that she had doubted for an instant.
"There was an awful doom," she continued- "the effect of myfather's fatal love of science- which estranged me from all society ofmy kind. Until Heaven sent thee, dearest Giovanni, Oh! how lonelywas thy poor Beatrice!""Was it a hard doom?" asked Giovanni, fixing his eyes upon her.
"Only of late have I known how hard it was," answered she tenderly.
"Oh, yes; but my heart was torpid, and therefore quiet."Giovanni's rage broke forth from his sullen gloom like alightning-flash out of a dark cloud.
"Accursed one!" cried he, with venomous scorn and anger. "Andfinding thy solitude wearisome, thou hast severed me, likewise, fromall the warmth of life, and enticed me into thy region ofunspeakable horror!""Giovanni!" exclaimed Beatrice, turning her large bright eyesupon his face. The force of his words had not found its way into hermind; she was merely thunder-struck.
"Yes, poisonous thing!" repeated Giovanni, beside himself withpassion. "Thou hast done it! Thou hast blasted me! Thou hast filled myveins with poison! Thou hast made me as hateful, as ugly, as loathsomeand deadly a creature as thyself- a world's wonder of hideousmonstrosity! Now- if our breath be happily as fatal to ourselves as toall others- let us join our lips in one kiss of unutterable hatred,and so die!""What has befallen me?" murmured Beatrice, with a low moan out ofher heart. "Holy Virgin pity me, a poor heartbroken child!""Thou! Dost thou pray?" cried Giovanni, still with the samefiendish scorn. "Thy very prayers, as they come from thy lips, taintthe atmosphere with death. Yes, yes; let us pray! Let us to church,and dip our fingers in the holy water at the portal! They that comeafter us will perish as by a pestilence. Let us sign crosses in theair! It will be scattering curses abroad in the likeness of holysymbols!""Giovanni," said Beatrice calmly, for her grief was beyond passion,"Why dost thou join thyself with me thus in those terrible words? I,it is true, am the horrible thing thou namest me. But thou! whathast thou to do, save with one other shudder at my hideous misery,to go forth out of the garden and mingle with thy race, and forgetthat there ever crawled on earth such a monster as poor Beatrice?""Dost thou pretend ignorance?" asked Giovanni, scowling upon her.
"Behold! This power have I gained from the pure daughter ofRappaccini!"There was a swarm of summer-insects flitting through the air, insearch of the food promised by the flower-odors of the fatal garden.
They circled round Giovanni's head, and were evidently attractedtowards him by the same influence which had drawn them, for aninstant, within the sphere of several of the shrubs. He sent forth abreath among them, and smiled bitterly at Beatrice, as at least ascore of the insects fell dead upon the ground.
