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Authors: Joseph Lewis French
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sufficient time for my
meals. My whole life was absorbed in contemplation as rapt as that of
any of the Romish saints. Every hour that I gazed upon the divine form
strengthened my passion,—a passion that was always overshadowed by the
maddening conviction that, although I could gaze on her at will, she
never, never could behold me!
At length I grew so pale and emaciated from want of rest and continual
brooding over my insane love and its cruel conditions that I determined
to make some effort to wean myself from it. "Come," I said, "this is at
best but a fantasy. Your imagination has bestowed on Animula charms
which in reality she does not possess. Seclusion from female society
has produced this morbid condition of mind. Compare her with the
beautiful women of your own world, and this false enchantment will
vanish."
I looked over the newspapers by chance. There I beheld the
advertisement of a celebrated
danseuse
who appeared nightly at
Niblo's. The Signorina Caradolce had the reputation of being the most
beautiful as well as the most graceful woman in the world. I instantly
dressed and went to the theatre.
The curtain drew up. The usual semicircle of fairies in white muslin
were standing on the right toe around the enamelled flower-bank, of
green canvas, on which the belated prince was sleeping. Suddenly a
flute is heard. The fairies start. The trees open, the fairies all
stand on the left toe, and the queen enters. It was the Signorina. She
bounded forward amid thunders of applause, and, lighting on one foot,
remained poised in air. Heavens! was this the great enchantress that
had drawn monarchs at her chariot-wheels? Those heavy muscular limbs,
those thick ankles, those cavernous eyes, that stereotyped smile, those
crudely painted cheeks! Where were the vermeil blooms, the liquid
expressive eyes, the harmonious limbs of Animula?
The Signorina danced. What gross, discordant movements! The play of her
limbs was all false and artificial. Her bounds were painful athletic
efforts; her poses were angular and distressed the eye. I could bear it
no longer; with an exclamation of disgust that drew every eye upon me,
I rose from my seat in the very middle of the Signorina's
pas-de-fascination
, and abruptly quitted the house.
I hastened home to feast my eyes once more on the lovely form of my
sylph. I felt that henceforth to combat this passion would be
impossible. I applied my eye to the lens. Animula was there,—but what
could have happened? Some terrible change seemed to have taken place
during my absence. Some secret grief seemed to cloud the lovely
features of her I gazed upon. Her face had grown thin and haggard; her
limbs trailed heavily; the wondrous lustre of her golden hair had
faded. She was ill!—ill, and I could not assist her! I believe at that
moment I would have gladly forfeited all claims to my human birthright,
if I could only have been dwarfed to the size of an animalcule, and
permitted to console her from whom fate had forever divided me.
I racked my brain for the solution of this mystery. What was it that
afflicted the sylph? She seemed to suffer intense pain. Her features
contracted, and she even writhed, as if with some internal agony. The
wondrous forests appeared also to have lost half their beauty. Their
hues were dim and in some places faded away altogether. I watched
Animula for hours with a breaking heart, and she seemed absolutely to
wither away under my very eye. Suddenly I remembered that I had not
looked at the water-drop for several days. In fact, I hated to see it;
for it reminded me of the natural barrier between Animula and myself. I
hurriedly looked down on the stage of the microscope. The slide was
still there,—but, great heavens! the water-drop had vanished! The
awful truth burst upon me; it had evaporated; until it had become so
minute as to be invisible to the naked eye; I had been gazing on its
last atom, the one that contained Animula,—and she was dying!
I rushed again to the
meals. My whole life was absorbed in contemplation as rapt as that of
any of the Romish saints. Every hour that I gazed upon the divine form
strengthened my passion,—a passion that was always overshadowed by the
maddening conviction that, although I could gaze on her at will, she
never, never could behold me!
At length I grew so pale and emaciated from want of rest and continual
brooding over my insane love and its cruel conditions that I determined
to make some effort to wean myself from it. "Come," I said, "this is at
best but a fantasy. Your imagination has bestowed on Animula charms
which in reality she does not possess. Seclusion from female society
has produced this morbid condition of mind. Compare her with the
beautiful women of your own world, and this false enchantment will
vanish."
I looked over the newspapers by chance. There I beheld the
advertisement of a celebrated
danseuse
who appeared nightly at
Niblo's. The Signorina Caradolce had the reputation of being the most
beautiful as well as the most graceful woman in the world. I instantly
dressed and went to the theatre.
The curtain drew up. The usual semicircle of fairies in white muslin
were standing on the right toe around the enamelled flower-bank, of
green canvas, on which the belated prince was sleeping. Suddenly a
flute is heard. The fairies start. The trees open, the fairies all
stand on the left toe, and the queen enters. It was the Signorina. She
bounded forward amid thunders of applause, and, lighting on one foot,
remained poised in air. Heavens! was this the great enchantress that
had drawn monarchs at her chariot-wheels? Those heavy muscular limbs,
those thick ankles, those cavernous eyes, that stereotyped smile, those
crudely painted cheeks! Where were the vermeil blooms, the liquid
expressive eyes, the harmonious limbs of Animula?
The Signorina danced. What gross, discordant movements! The play of her
limbs was all false and artificial. Her bounds were painful athletic
efforts; her poses were angular and distressed the eye. I could bear it
no longer; with an exclamation of disgust that drew every eye upon me,
I rose from my seat in the very middle of the Signorina's
pas-de-fascination
, and abruptly quitted the house.
I hastened home to feast my eyes once more on the lovely form of my
sylph. I felt that henceforth to combat this passion would be
impossible. I applied my eye to the lens. Animula was there,—but what
could have happened? Some terrible change seemed to have taken place
during my absence. Some secret grief seemed to cloud the lovely
features of her I gazed upon. Her face had grown thin and haggard; her
limbs trailed heavily; the wondrous lustre of her golden hair had
faded. She was ill!—ill, and I could not assist her! I believe at that
moment I would have gladly forfeited all claims to my human birthright,
if I could only have been dwarfed to the size of an animalcule, and
permitted to console her from whom fate had forever divided me.
I racked my brain for the solution of this mystery. What was it that
afflicted the sylph? She seemed to suffer intense pain. Her features
contracted, and she even writhed, as if with some internal agony. The
wondrous forests appeared also to have lost half their beauty. Their
hues were dim and in some places faded away altogether. I watched
Animula for hours with a breaking heart, and she seemed absolutely to
wither away under my very eye. Suddenly I remembered that I had not
looked at the water-drop for several days. In fact, I hated to see it;
for it reminded me of the natural barrier between Animula and myself. I
hurriedly looked down on the stage of the microscope. The slide was
still there,—but, great heavens! the water-drop had vanished! The
awful truth burst upon me; it had evaporated; until it had become so
minute as to be invisible to the naked eye; I had been gazing on its
last atom, the one that contained Animula,—and she was dying!
I rushed again to the
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