anner.vittoriothevampire-第2部分

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on　follows　guilt；　in　ways　the　most　mysterious　and　stupendous　…　by　agencies　the　most　inexplicable　and　terrific　…　there　is　a　spiritual　system　…　great　God；　how　I　have　been　convinced！　…　a　system　malignant；　and　implacable；　and　omnipotent；　under　whose　persecutions　I　am；　and　have　been；　suffering　the　torments　of　the　damned！
　What　do　you　think　of　that？
　I　am　myself　rather　mortally　struck　by　it。　I　don't　think　I　am　prepared　to　speak　of　our　God　as　〃dreadful〃　or　our　system　as　〃malignant；〃　but　there　seems　an　eerie　inescapable　ring　of　truth　to　these　words；　written　in　fiction　but　obviously　with　much　emotion。
　It　matters　to　me　because　I　suffer　under　a　terrible　curse；　quite　unique　to　me；　I　think；　as　a　vampire。　That　is；　the　others　don't　share　it。　But　I　think　we　all　…　human；　vampire；　all　of　us　who　are　sentient　and　can　weep　…　we　all　suffer　under　a　curse；　the　curse　that　we　know　more　than　we　can　endure；　and　there　is　nothing；　absolutely　nothing；　we　can　do　about　the　force　and　the　lure　of　this　knowledge。
　At　the　end；　we　can　take　this　up　again。　See　what　you　make　of　my　story。
　It's　early　evening　here。　The　brave　remnant　of　my　father's　highest　tower　still　rises　boldly　enough　against　the　sweetly　star…filled　heavens　for　me　to　see　from　the　window　the　moonlighted　hills　and　valleys　of　Tuscany；　aye；　even　as　far　as　the　twinkling　sea　below　the　mines　of　Carrara。　I　smell　the　flowering　green　of　the　steep　undiscovered　country　round　where　the　irises　of　Tuscany　still　break　out　in　violent　red　or　white　in　sunny　beds；　to　be　found　by　me　in　the　silky　night。
　And　so　embraced　and　protected；　I　write；　ready　for　the　moment　when　the　full　yet　ever　obscure　moon　leaves　me　for　the　hideaway　of　clouds；　to　light　the　candles　that　stand　ready；　some　six；　ensconced　within　the　thick　ruggedly　worked　silver　of　the　candelabra　which　once　stood　on　my　father's　desk；　in　those　days　when　he　was　the　old…style　feudal　lord　of　this　mountain　and　all　its　villages；　and　the　firm　ally　in　peace　and　war　of　the　great　city　of　Florence　and　its　unofficial　ruler；　when　we　were　rich；　fearless；　curious　and　wondrously　contented。　Let　me　speak　now　of　what　has　vanished。
　
　
　2
　MY　SMALL　MORTAL　LIFE；　THE　BEAUTY　OF　FLORENCE；　THE　GLORY　OF　OURSMALL　COURT　…　WHAT　IS　VANISHED
　
　　I　WAS　sixteen　years　old　when　I　died。　I　have　good　height；　thick　brown　hair　down　to　the　shoulders；　hazel　eyes　that　I　are　far　too　vulnerable　to　behold；　giving　me　the　appearance　of　an　androgyne　in　a　way；　and　a　desirable　narrow　nose　with　unremarkable　nostrils；　and　a　medium…sized　mouth　which　is　neither　voluptuous　nor　stingy。　A　beautiful　boy　for　the　time。　I　wouldn't　be　alive　now　if　I　hadn't　been。
　That's　the　case　with　most　vampires；　no　matter　who　says　otherwise。　Beauty　carries　us　to　our　doom。　Or；　to　put　it　more　accurately；　we　are　made　immortal　by　those　who　cannot　sever　themselves　from　our　charms。
　I　don't　have　a　childish　face；　but　I　have　an　almost　angelic　one。　My　eyebrows　are　strong；　dark；　high　enough　over　my　eyes　to　allow　them　entirely　too　much　luster。　My　forehead　would　be　a　little　too　high　if　it　wasn't　so　straight；　and　if　I　didn't　have　so　much　thick　brown　hair；　making　as　it　does　a　curly；　wavy　frame　for　the　whole　picture。　My　chin　is　slightly　too　strong；　too　squared　off　for　the　rest。　I　have　a　dimple　in　it。
　My　body　is　overmuscular；　strong；　broad…chested；　my　arms　powerful；　giving　an　impression　of　manly　power。　This　rather　rescues　my　obdurate…looking　jaw　and　allows　to　me　to　pass　for　a　full…fledged　man；　at　least　from　a　distance。
　This　well…developed　physique　I　owe　to　tremendous　practice　with　a　heavy　battle　sword　in　the　last　years　of　my　life；　and　ferocious　hunting　with　my　falcons　in　the　mountains；　up　and　down　which　I　ran　often　on　foot；　though　I　had　already　four　horses　of　my　own　by　that　age；　including　one　of　that　special　majestic　breed　made　to　support　my　weight　when　I　wore　my　full　suit　of　armor。
　My　armor　is　still　buried　beneath　this　tower。　I　never　used　it　in　battle。　Italy　was　seething　with　war　in　my　time；　but　all　of　the　battles　of　the　Florentines　were　being　fought　by　mercenaries。
　All　my　father　had　to　do　was　declare　his　absolute　loyalty　to　Cosimo；　and　let　no　one　representing　the　Holy　Roman　Empire；　the　Duke　of　Milan　or　the　Pope　in　Rome　move　troops　through　our　mountain　passes　or　stop　in　our　villages。
　We　were　out　of　the　way。　It　was　no　problem。　Enterprising　ancestors　had　built　our　castle　three　hundred　years　before。　We　went　back　to　the　time　of　the　Lombards；　or　those　barbarians　who　had　e　down　from　the　North　into　Italy；　and　I　think　we　had　their　blood　in　us。　But　who　knows？　Since　the　Fall　of　ancient　Rome；　so　many　tribes　had　invaded　Italy。
　We　had　interesting　pagan　relics　lying　about；　alien　tombstones　most　ancient　were　sometimes　found　in　the　fields；　and　funny　little　stone　goddesses　which　the　peasants　still　cherished　if　we　didn't　confiscate　them。　Beneath　our　towers　were　vaults　that　some　said　went　back　to　the　days　even　before　the　Birth　of　Christ；　and　I　know　now　that　is　true。　These　places　belonged　to　the　people　known　to　history　as　the　Etruscans。
　Our　household；　being　of　the　old　feudal　style；　scorning　trade　and　requiring　of　its　men　that　they　be　bold　and　brave；　was　full　of　treasure　acquired　through　wars　without　count　or　record　…　that　is；　old　silver　and　gold　candelabra　and　sconces；　heavy　chests　of　wood　with　Byzantine　designs　encrusted　on　them；　the　usual　Flemish　tapestries；　and　tons　of　lace；　and　bed　hangings　hand…trimmed　with　gilt　and　gems；　and　all　of　the　most　desirable　finery。
　My　father；　admiring　the　Medici　as　he　did；　bought　up　all　kinds　of　luxury　items　on　his　trips　to　Florence。　There　was　little　bare　stone　in　any　important　room；　because　flowered　wool　carpets　covered　all；　and　every　hallway　or　alcove　had　its　own　towering　armoire　filled　with　rattling；　rusting　battle　dress　of　heroes　whose　names　nobody　even　remembered。
　We　were　incalculably　rich：　this　I　had　more　or　less　overheard　as　a　child；　and　there　was　some　hint　that　it　had　to　do　as　much　with　valor　in　war　as　with　secret　pagan　treasure。　There　had　been　centuries　of　course　when　our　family　had　warred　with　other　hill　towns　and　forts；　when　castle　besieged　castle　and　walls　were　ripped　down　as　soon　as　they　were　built；　and　out　of　the　city　of　Florence　had　gone　the　ever　quarreling　and　murderous　Guelfs　and　Ghibellines。
　The　old　mune　of　Florence　had　sent　armies　to　tear　down　castles　like　ours　and　reduce　any　threatening　Lord　to　nothingness。　But　that　time　was　long　over。
　We　had　survived　due　to　cleverness　and　good　choices；　and　also　because　we　were　much　off　to　ourselves；　in　high　craggy　uninviting　country；　crowning　a　true　mountain；　as　this　is　where　the　Alps　e　down　into　Tuscany；　and　those　castles　most　near　to　us　were　abandoned　ruins。
　Our　nearest　neighbor　did　rule　his　own　mountain　enclave　of　villages　in　loyalty　to　the　Duke　of　Milan。
　But　he　didn't　bother　with　us　or　we　him。　It　was　a　remote　political　matter。
　Our　walls　were　thirty　feet　high；　immensely　thick；　older　than　the　castle　and　keeps；　old　indeed　beyond　anyone's　most　romantic　tales　and　constantly　being　thickened　and　repaired；　and　inside　the　pound　there　existed　three　little　villages　busy　with　good　vineyards　that　yielded　marvelous　red　wine；　prosperous　beehives；　blackberries；　and　wheat　and　the　like；　with　plenty　of　chickens　and　cows；　and　enormous　stables　for　our　horses。
　I　never　knew　how　many　people　labored　in　our　little　world。　The　house　was　full　of　clerks　who　took　care　of　such　things；　and　very　seldom　did　my　father　sit　in　judgment　on　any　sort　of　case　himself　or　was　there　cause　to　go　to　the　courts　of　Florence。
　Our　church　was　the　designated　church　for　all　the　country　round；　so　that　those　few　who　lived　in　less　protected　little　hamlets　down　the　mountain　…　and　there　were　plenty　…　came　to　us　for　their　baptisms；　and　marriages；　and　such；　and　we　had　for　long　periods　of　time　within　our　walls　a　Dominican　priest　who　said　Mass　for　us　every　morning。
　In　olden　times；　the　forest　had　been　severely　cut　down　on　our　mountain　so　that　no　invading　enemy　could　make　his　way　up　the　slopes；　but　by　my　time　no　such　protection　was　necessary。
　The　woods　had　grown　back　full　and　sweet　in　some　gullies　and　over　old　paths；　even　as　wild　as　it　is　now；　and　almost　up　to　the　walls。　One　could　make　out　clearly　from　our　towers　a　dozen　or　so　small　towns　descending　to　the　valleys；　with　their