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Rappaccini's Daughter
ButGiovanni,outoftheshadowofhiswindow,bentforwardandshrankback,andmurmuredandtrembled.
"AmIawake?HaveImysenses?"saidhetohimself."Whatisthisbeing?BeautifulshallIcallher,orinexpressiblyterrible?"
Beatricenowstrayedcarelesslythroughthegarden,approachingcloserbeneathGiovanni’swindow,sothathewascompelledtothrusthisheadquiteoutofitsconcealmentinordertogratifytheintenseandpainfulcuriositywhichsheexcited.Atthismomenttherecameabeautifulinsectoverthegardenwall;ithad,perhaps,wanderedthroughthecity,andfoundnoflowersorverdureamongthoseantiquehauntsofmenuntiltheheavyperfumesofDr.Rappaccini’sshrubshadlureditfromafar.Withoutalightingontheflowers,thiswingedbrightnessseemedtobeattractedbyBeatrice,andlingeredintheairandflutteredaboutherhead.Now,hereitcouldnotbebutthatGiovanniGuasconti’seyesdeceivedhim.Bethatasitmight,hefanciedthat,whileBeatricewasgazingattheinsectwithchildishdelight,itgrewfaintandfellatherfeet;itsbrightwingsshivered;itwasdead—fromnocausethathecoulddiscern,unlessitweretheatmosphereofherbreath.AgainBeatricecrossedherselfandsighedheavilyasshebentoverthedeadinsect.
AnimpulsivemovementofGiovannidrewhereyestothewindow.Thereshebeheldthebeautifulheadoftheyoungman—ratheraGrecianthananItalianhead,withfair,regularfeatures,andaglisteningofgoldamonghisringlets—gazingdownuponherlikeabeingthathoveredinmidair.
