But now, unless Giovanni's draughts of wine had
bewildered his senses, a singular incident occurred. A small orange
colored reptile, of the lizard or chameleon species, chanced to be
creeping along the path, just at the feet of Beatrice. It appeared
to Giovanni- but, at the distance from which he gazed, he could
scarcely have seen anything so minute- it appeared to him, however,
that a drop or two of moisture from the broken stem of the flower
descended upon the lizard's head. For an instant, the reptile
contorted itself violently, and then lay motionless in the sunshine.
Beatrice observed this remarkable phenomenon, and crossed herself,
sadly, but without surprise; nor did she therefore hesitate to arrange
the fatal flower in her bosom. There it blushed, and almost
glimmered with the dazzling effect of a precious stone, adding to
her dress and aspect the one appropriate charm, which nothing else
in the world could have supplied. But Giovanni, out of the shadow of
his window, bent forward and shrank back, and murmured and trembled.
"Am I awake? Have I my senses?" said he to himself.
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