The Song of Love Triumphant Page #5

"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.

								


The window-panes were reddening with the first gleams of dawn when, at
last, she fell asleep in his arms.

VIII

On the following day Muzio disappeared early in the morning, and Valeria
informed her husband that she intended to betake herself to the
neighbouring monastery, where dwelt her spiritual father--an aged and
stately monk, in whom she cherished unbounded confidence. To Fabio's
questions she replied that she desired to alleviate by confession her
soul, which was oppressed with the impressions of the last few days. As
he gazed at Valeria's sunken visage, as he listened to her faint voice,
Fabio himself approved of her plan: venerable Father Lorenzo might be
able to give her useful advice, disperse her doubts.... Under the
protection of four escorts, Valeria set out for the monastery, but Fabio
remained at home; and while awaiting the return of his wife, he roamed
about the garden, trying to understand what had happened to her, and
feeling the unremitting terror and wrath and pain of indefinite
suspicions.... More than once he entered the pavilion; but Muzio had not
returned, and the Malay stared at Fabio like a statue, with an
obsequious inclination of his head, and a far-away grin--at least, so it
seemed to Fabio--a far-away grin on his bronze countenance.

In the meantime Valeria had narrated everything in confession to her
confessor, being less ashamed than frightened. The confessor listened to
her attentively, blessed her, absolved her from her involuntary
sins,--but thought to himself: "Magic, diabolical witchcraft ... things
cannot be left in this condition".... and accompanied Valeria to her
villa, ostensibly for the purpose of definitely calming and comforting
her.

At the sight of the confessor Fabio was somewhat startled; but the
experienced old man had already thought out beforehand how he ought to
proceed. On being left alone with Fabio, he did not, of course, betray
the secrets of the confessional; but he advised him to banish from his
house, if that were possible, his invited guest who, by his tales,
songs, and his whole conduct, had upset Valeria's imagination. Moreover,
in the old man's opinion, Muzio had not been firm in the faith in days
gone by, as he now recalled to mind; and after having sojourned so long
in regions not illuminated by the light of Christianity, he might have
brought thence the infection of false doctrines; he might even have
dabbled in magic; and therefore, although old friendship did assert its
rights, still wise caution pointed to parting as indispensable.

Fabio thoroughly agreed with the venerable monk. Valeria even beamed all
over when her husband communicated to her her confessor's counsel; and
accompanied by the good wishes of both husband and wife, and provided
with rich gifts for the monastery and the poor, Father Lorenzo wended
his way home.

Fabio had intended to have an explanation with Muzio directly after
supper, but his strange guest did not return to supper. Then Fabio
decided to defer the interview with Muzio until the following day, and
husband and wife withdrew to their bed-chamber.

IX

Valeria speedily fell asleep; but Fabio could not get to sleep. In the
nocturnal silence all that he had seen, all that he had felt, presented
itself to him in a still more vivid manner; with still greater
persistence did he ask himself questions, to which, as before, he found
no answer. Was Muzio really a magician? And had he already poisoned
Valeria? She was ill ... but with what malady? While he was engrossed in
painful meditations, with his head propped on his hand and restraining
his hot breathing, the moon again rose in the cloudless sky; and
together with its rays, through the semi-transparent window-panes, in
the direction of the pavilion, there began to stream in--or did Fabio
merely imagine it?--there began to stream in a breath resembling a
faint, perfumed current of air....

Now an importunate, passionate whisper began to make itself heard ...
and at that same moment he noticed that Valeria was beginning to stir
slightly. He started, gazed; she rose, thrust first one foot, then the
other from the bed, and, like a somnambulist, with her dull eyes
strained straight ahead, and her arms extended before her, she advanced
toward the door into the garden! Fabio instantly sprang through the
other door of the bedroom, and briskly running round the corner of the
house, he closed the one which led into the garden.... He had barely
succeeded in grasping the handle when he felt some one trying to open
the door from within, throwing their force against it ... more and more
strongly ... then frightened moans resounded.

       *       *       *       *       *

"But Muzio cannot have returned from the town, surely," flashed through
Fabio's head, and he darted into the pavilion....

What did he behold?

Coming to meet him, along the path brilliantly flooded with the radiance
of the moonlight, also with arms outstretched and lifeless eyes staring
widely--was Muzio.... Fabio ran up to him, but the other, without
noticing him, walked on, advancing with measured steps, and his
impassive face was smiling in the moonlight like the face of the Malay.
Fabio tried to call him by name ... but at that moment he heard a window
bang in the house behind him.... He glanced round....

In fact, the window of the bedroom was open from top to bottom, and with
one foot thrust across the sill stood Valeria in the window ... and her
arms seemed to be seeking Muzio, her whole being was drawn toward him.

Unspeakable wrath flooded Fabio's breast in a suddenly-invading
torrent.--"Accursed sorcerer!" he yelled fiercely, and seizing Muzio by
the throat with one hand, he fumbled with the other for the dagger in
his belt, and buried its blade to the hilt in his side.

Muzio uttered a piercing shriek, and pressing the palm of his hand to
the wound, fled, stumbling, back to the pavilion.... But at that same
instant, when Fabio stabbed him, Valeria uttered an equally piercing
shriek and fell to the ground like one mowed down.

Fabio rushed to her, raised her up, carried her to the bed, spoke to
her....

For a long time she lay motionless; but at last she opened her eyes,
heaved a deep sigh, convulsively and joyously, like a person who has
just been saved from inevitable death,--caught sight of her husband, and
encircling his neck with her arms, pressed herself to his breast.

"Thou, thou, it is thou," she stammered. Gradually the clasp of her arms
relaxed, her head sank backward, and whispering, with a blissful
smile:--"Thank God, all is over.... But how weary I am!"--she fell into
a profound but not heavy slumber.

X

Fabio sank down beside her bed, and never taking his eyes from her pale,
emaciated, but already tranquil face, he began to reflect upon what had
taken place ... and also upon how he ought to proceed now. What was he
to do? If he had slain Muzio--and when he recalled how deeply the blade
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