The Song of Love Triumphant Page #3

"The Song of Love Triumphant" is a lyrical novella by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev that explores themes of love, longing, and the passage of time. Set against the backdrop of 19th-century Russia, the story follows the emotional journey of its protagonist as he grapples with his feelings for a beautiful and enigmatic woman. Turgenev’s rich prose captures the nuances of romantic relationships and the complexities of human emotion, while also offering reflections on the ideals of love and the inevitable losses that accompany it. Through its poignant narrative, the work examines the interplay between passion and despair, illustrating how love can both uplift and torment the human spirit.

								

courteous smile: "That? That melody ... that song I heard once on the
island of Ceylon. That song is known there, among the people, as the
song of happy, satisfied love."

"Repeat it," whispered Fabio.

"No; it is impossible to repeat it," replied Muzio. "And it is late now.
Signora Valeria ought to rest; and it is high time for me also.... I am
weary."

All day long Muzio had treated Valeria in a respectfully-simple manner,
like a friend of long standing; but as he took leave he pressed her hand
very hard, jamming his fingers into her palm, staring so intently into
her face the while that she, although she did not raise her eyelids,
felt conscious of that glance on her suddenly-flushing cheeks. She said
nothing to Muzio, but drew away her hand, and when he was gone she
stared at the door through which he had made his exit. She recalled how,
in former years also, she had been afraid of him ... and now she was
perplexed. Muzio went off to his pavilion; the husband and wife withdrew
to their bed-chamber.

IV

Valeria did not soon fall asleep; her blood was surging softly and
languidly, and there was a faint ringing in her head ... from that
strange wine, as she supposed, and, possibly, also from Muzio's tales,
from his violin playing.... Toward morning she fell asleep at last, and
had a remarkable dream.

It seems to her that she enters a spacious room with a low, vaulted
ceiling.... She has never seen such a room in her life. All the walls
are set with small blue tiles bearing golden patterns; slender carved
pillars of alabaster support the marble vault; this vault and the
pillars seem semi-transparent.... A pale, rose-coloured light penetrates
the room from all directions, illuminating all the objects mysteriously
and monotonously; cushions of gold brocade lie on a narrow rug in the
very middle of the floor, which is as smooth as a mirror. In the
corners, barely visible, two tall incense-burners, representing
monstrous animals, are smoking; there are no windows anywhere; the door,
screened by a velvet drapery, looms silently black in a niche of the
wall. And suddenly this curtain softly slips aside, moves away ... and
Muzio enters. He bows, opens his arms, smiles.... His harsh arms
encircle Valeria's waist; his dry lips have set her to burning all
over.... She falls prone on the cushions....

       *       *       *       *       *

Moaning with fright, Valeria awoke after long efforts.--Still not
comprehending where she is and what is the matter with her, she half
raises herself up in bed and looks about her.... A shudder runs through
her whole body.... Fabio is lying beside her. He is asleep; but his
face, in the light of the round, clear moon, is as pale as that of a
corpse ... it is more melancholy than the face of a corpse. Valeria
awoke her husband--and no sooner had he cast a glance at her than he
exclaimed: "What is the matter with thee?"

"I have seen ... I have seen a dreadful dream," she whispered, still
trembling....

But at that moment, from the direction of the pavilion, strong sounds
were wafted to them--and both Fabio and Valeria recognised the melody
which Muzio had played to them, calling it the Song of Love
Triumphant.--Fabio cast a glance of surprise at Valeria.... She closed
her eyes, and turned away--and both, holding their breath, listened to
the song to the end. When the last sound died away the moon went behind
a cloud, it suddenly grew dark in the room.... The husband and wife
dropped their heads on their pillows, without exchanging a word, and
neither of them noticed when the other fell asleep.

V

On the following morning Muzio came to breakfast; he seemed pleased,
and greeted Valeria merrily. She answered him with confusion,--
scrutinised him closely, and was startled by that pleased, merry
face, those piercing and curious eyes. Muzio was about to begin his
stories again ... but Fabio stopped him at the first word.

"Evidently, thou wert not able to sleep in a new place? My wife and I
heard thee playing the song of last night."

"Yes? Did you hear it?"--said Muzio.--"I did play it, in fact; but I had
been asleep before that, and I had even had a remarkable dream."

Valeria pricked up her ears.--"What sort of a dream?" inquired Fabio.

"I seemed," replied Muzio, without taking his eyes from Valeria, "to see
myself enter a spacious apartment with a vaulted ceiling, decorated in
Oriental style. Carved pillars supported the vault; the walls were
covered with tiles, and although there were no windows nor candles, yet
the whole room was filled with a rosy light, just as though it had all
been built of transparent stone. In the corners Chinese incense-burners
were smoking; on the floor lay cushions of brocade, along a narrow rug.
I entered through a door hung with a curtain, and from another door
directly opposite a woman whom I had once loved made her appearance. And
she seemed to me so beautiful that I became all aflame with my love of
days gone by...."

Muzio broke off significantly. Valeria sat motionless, only paling
slowly ... and her breathing grew more profound.

"Then," pursued Muzio, "I woke up and played that song."

"But who was the woman?" said Fabio.

"Who was she? The wife of an East Indian. I met her in the city of
Delhi.... She is no longer among the living. She is dead."

"And her husband?" asked Fabio, without himself knowing why he did so.

"Her husband is dead also, they say. I soon lost sight of them."

"Strange!" remarked Fabio.--"My wife also had a remarkable dream last
night--which she did not relate to me," added Fabio.

But at this point Valeria rose and left the room. Immediately after
breakfast Muzio also went away, asserting that he was obliged to go to
Ferrara on business, and that he should not return before evening.

VI

Several weeks before Muzio's return Fabio had begun a portrait of his
wife, depicting her with the attributes of Saint Cecilia.--He had made
noteworthy progress in his art; the famous Luini, the pupil of Leonardo
da Vinci, had come to him in Ferrara, and aiding him with his own
advice, had also imparted to him the precepts of his great master. The
portrait was almost finished; it only remained for him to complete the
face by a few strokes of the brush, and then Fabio might feel justly
proud of his work.

When Muzio departed to Ferrara, Fabio betook himself to his studio,
where Valeria was generally awaiting him; but he did not find her there;
he called to her--she did not respond. A secret uneasiness took
possession of Fabio; he set out in quest of her. She was not in the
house; Fabio ran into the garden--and there, in one of the most remote
alleys, he descried Valeria. With head bowed upon her breast, and hands
clasped on her knees, she was sitting on a bench, and behind her,
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