As to Odo, seated in the state box, with Maria Clementina at his side,
and the court dignitaries grouped in the background, he had not listened
to a dozen lines before all sense of his surroundings vanished and he
became the passive instrument on which the poet played his mighty
harmonies. All the incidental difficulties of life, all the vacillations
of an unsatisfied spirit, were consumed in that energising emotion which
seemed to leave every faculty stripped for action. Profounder meaning
and more subtle music he had found in the great poets of the past; but
here was an appeal to the immediate needs of the hour, uttered in notes
as thrilling as a trumpet-call, and brought home to every sense by the
vivid imagery of the stage. Once more he felt the old ardour of belief
that Fulvia's nearness had fanned in him. His convictions had flagged
rather than his courage: now they started up as at her summons, and he
heard the ring of her voice in every line.
He left the theatre still vibrating with this new inrush of life, and
jealous of any interruption that should check it. The Duchess's birthday
was being celebrated by illuminations and fireworks, and throngs of
merry-makers filled the moonlit streets; but Odo, after appearing for a
moment at his wife's side on the balcony above the public square,
withdrew quietly to his own apartments. The casement of his closet stood
wide, and he leaned against the window-frame, looking out on the silent
radiance of the gardens.
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