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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » Captain Mansana by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖

Book online «Captain Mansana by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖». Author Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson



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he was only awakened to the fact by a lusty slap upon the shoulder.

"Is it really true," asked Sardi, with a laugh, "that you are in love with the little girl up yonder? Upon my word, it would almost seem so!"

Mansana's face grew copper red, his eyes flashed, his breath came quickly as he answered:

"What are you talking about? What have you been told--that----?" He stopped wondering what he could be about to hear; surely no one could have--Luigi could never have---- "What did you say?" he repeated.

"Upon my soul, you seem bewitched!"

"What did you say?" repeated Mansana, with deepened colour, his brows knit, and one hand laid, not too gently, upon the major's shoulder.

It was now Sardi's turn to be offended. Mansana's vehemence had so taken him by surprise, he had no time to consider what he should say, but in his own defence, and with a desire of still further irritating the unjustly aroused temper of his friend, he told him what people were already saying about him, and how the officers at the cafe were amusing themselves at his expense.

Mansana's anger knew no bounds. He swore that if Sardi would not at once reveal who had first started these reports, he must himself be answerable, and for a moment it seemed as though a challenge would be inevitable between the two friends. But Sardi, almost immediately recovering his composure, represented to Mansana what an ugly sensation it would create, were he to fight a duel with him, or with any one else, over such a subject as his relationship with Amanda Brandini, the very day before leaving to celebrate his wedding with the Princess Leaney.

Surely the best answer he could give to such a calumny would be to start at once, and make the princess his bride without delay. Thereupon followed a fresh ebullition from Mansana. He would look after his own affairs, and protect his own reputation; Sardi must give the names of his detractors! The major saw no reason for concealment, and gave the names, one by one, merely adding quietly, that if Mansana felt an inclination to kill off all this small fry, he was quite welcome to the task!

Mansana was eager to make straight for the cafe, where all these officers would now be assembled. Sardi, however, convinced him of the folly of such a course.

Then, Mansana declared, he would at any rate seek Luigi. But Sardi undertook himself to carry the challenge to the lieutenant. "Though, after all," he added, "what is he to be challenged for?"

"For what he has said of me," shouted Mansana.

"But what has he said of you? That you are in love with Amanda Brandini? Is this not true?"

Now, had Mansana started on his journey without meeting Major Sardi, it is tolerably certain that he would, in two or three days' time, have been married to the Princess Leaney; whereas the following conversation now took place.

"Have you the boldness to assert that I love Amanda?"

"I refuse to answer that; but if you do not love her, what the devil does it concern you if the young whelp says so, or whether he cares for her himself; or even whether he attempts to seduce her?"

"You are a boor and a scoundrel to use such language!"

"And what are you, pray, who can openly abuse a young man for the crime of talking and jesting with his cousin?"

"Jesting with her!" repeated Mansana scornfully, with clenched fists and knitted brows; whilst Sardi interjected:

"Who is to look after her when you are gone?"

"I shall not go!" shouted Mansana.

"You will not go? Have you lost your senses?"

"I shall not go," repeated Mansana, his hands and arms raised above his head as if in confirmation of an oath.

Sardi was taken aback.

"Then you really do love her?" he whispered.

Mansana recoiled. A groan, as from the strength of his whole frame, alarmed Sardi, who feared an attack of apoplexy, but after a brief struggle with himself, Mansana's countenance cleared, and slowly, as though unconsciously and to himself, he murmured:

"Yes, I love her!" Then, turning to Sardi, he added: "And I shall not go away!"

And from that moment he was like a driven hurricane of wind.

He turned and hurried away, in a storm of passion.

"Where are you making for?" asked Sardi, as he hastened after him.

"I am going to Borghi."

"But we had agreed that I was to see him."

"Very well, then, go!"

"But where are you going?"

"To find Borghi!" Then he added passionately, "I love her, and whoever tries to take her from me shall die!" And again he turned to go.

"But does she love you?" shouted Sardi, quite forgetting that they were in the public street.

And once more raising his strong, sinewy hands above his head, Mansana answered, in a hollow voice:

"She shall love me!"

Sardi grew alarmed.

"Giuseppe, you are mad! You have been over excited, and it is only this unnatural condition of your mind which causes you to feel and speak like this. You are not yourself, Giuseppe! Do not run away from me! Don't you see that you are attracting the attention of the people in the street?"

At that Mansana stopped.

"Do you know what it is that makes me furious, Cornelius? It is the thought that I ever paid attention to those people in the street! I must needs hold my tongue, suffer, and be trampled on! This is what makes me furious."

He drew a step nearer Sardi.

"And now," he said, "I mean to proclaim it aloud to all the world; I love her!"

He actually shouted the words as he walked on with proud step. Sardi followed, and, taking him by the arm, guided him quietly into a less frequented street. But Mansana paid no heed, and with loud voice and vigorous gesticulations, gave his secretly wounded egotism vent.

"After all, what should I gain," he cried, "by becoming the husband of the Princess Leaney, the steward of her ladyship's estates, the slave of her ladyship's caprices? Now, for the first time, I can acknowledge to myself the truth; such a life would have been unworthy of Giuseppe Mansana."

Sardi came to the conclusion that if Mansana could so belie the usual taciturnity and reserve of his nature as to bawl and shout in this outrageous manner, almost any mad feat might be possible; so, with an ingenuity and perseverance that did him credit, he sought to induce him to take a little journey, just to give time for the confused condition of his mind and his affairs to settle themselves. But he might as well have expected a hurricane to heed his words.



CHAPTER XI



That same evening, Amanda's curiosity was stirred by receiving a letter conveyed to her with every appearance of precaution. She struck a light, and found that it came from Luigi--the first he had ever sent to her--and thus it ran:



"MY AMANDA,--There is a madman in pursuit of me, and he threatens
my life. An hour ago he got me to swear solemnly, and to put my
hand to the oath, that I would renounce all pretensions to you,
and never even speak to you again. I was a poltroon to submit to
it. I know that well enough, and you cannot despise me more than I
despise myself. But there is this to be said: until I consented to
that declaration I never knew that I loved you. Perhaps, indeed, I
had not done so. At any rate, now I know that I do love you--love
you beyond measure, beyond bounds; and in all the wide world there
is no wretch more miserable than I am at this moment. But I cannot
bring myself to believe that all is over between us, or that this
monstrous agreement can be binding.

"All rests with you, Amanda, if you do not despise me too deeply.
If you love me, then the madman can do nothing to you, and some day
matters will happily mend for us. At present I am like one in a
prison cell. I cannot move to release myself. But this I know: if
you will not help me to escape from the toils I shall die. Amanda,
give me a word, a sign. It is too perilous to write; indeed, I know
not how I shall convey these lines to your hands. At any rate, do
not you attempt to send a letter to me. He might be on our traces
even now.

"But to-morrow is the day of the fete. Be there in the
neighbourhood of the band, and stay till I find you. Then, no
words, but speak to me only with your eyes. If they are friendly
I shall know enough. Ah, Amanda, all will come right if you are
mine. My own, my Amanda.

"Till death,

"Your unhappy cousin,

"LUIGI."




No sooner had Amanda read this letter than she felt that she loved Luigi. Never before had she so much as hinted to herself a thought of this, but now she loved him with all her soul. She had no doubt on that point.

As to what Mansana had said about him, that might be based on a misunderstanding; and as to the promise Luigi had given, that, she thought, was obviously a matter of no importance. Young girls do not take a pledge of this kind au pied de la lettre, when it seems to them unreasonable. Besides, Mansana had left the place.

So the next day came--the day of the fete. It was a fine warm autumn morning, and Amanda was up and ready betimes. The bands of music had marched through the streets at sunrise, and the cannon had thundered a salute. The churches, decorated outside as well as within, were crowded for the early service, and our little Amanda was there by her father's side, tricked out in her best holiday finery. She offered up a prayer for Luigi, and as she rose from her knees she practised her lips in a smile, the friendly smile and deeply confiding glance that should bring hope and comfort to her distressed adorer. After the procession and the mid-day meal, she hastened to take up her position at the appointed place. The band had already begun to play in the market square, but Amanda hurried her father's customarily sedate pace so much that they were enabled to find room among the very first arrivals, though with the natural result that after they had been standing there an hour they found themselves wedged in the thickest of the throng. She looked at her father's perspiring face, and thought mournfully how unattractive her own would look in Luigi's eyes. They must make their way out, cost what it might; that is, provided it did not cost a flower, or a knot of ribbon, or even a vigorous effort, which last would only have added to the embarrassing redness of her burning cheeks. So she made but little progress, and still grew hotter and hotter. She heard the roll of the big drums and

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