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"
And
what
was
that
?
"
asked
Giovanni
,
turning
his
eyes
downward
to
avoid
those
of
the
professor
.
"
That
this
lovely
woman
,
"
continued
Baglioni
,
with
emphasis
,
"
had
been
nourished
with
poisons
from
her
birth
upward
,
until
her
whole
nature
was
so
imbued
with
them
that
she
herself
had
become
the
deadliest
poison
in
existence
.
Poison
was
her
element
of
life
.
With
that
rich
perfume
of
her
breath
she
blasted
the
very
air
.
Her
love
would
have
been
poison
—
her
embrace
death
.
Is
not
this
a
marvellous
tale
?
"
"
A
childish
fable
,
"
answered
Giovanni
,
nervously
starting
from
his
chair
.
"
I
marvel
how
your
worship
finds
time
to
read
such
nonsense
among
your
graver
studies
.
"
"
By
the
by
,
"
said
the
professor
,
looking
uneasily
about
him
,
"
what
singular
fragrance
is
this
in
your
apartment
?
Is
it
the
perfume
of
your
gloves
?
It
is
faint
,
but
delicious
;
and
yet
,
after
all
,
by
no
means
agreeable
.
Were
I
to
breathe
it
long
,
methinks
it
would
make
me
ill
.
It
is
like
the
breath
of
a
flower
;
but
I
see
no
flowers
in
the
chamber
.
"
"
Nor
are
there
any
,
"
replied
Giovanni
,
who
had
turned
pale
as
the
professor
spoke
;
"
nor
,
I
think
,
is
there
any
fragrance
except
in
your
worship
’
s
imagination
.
Odors
,
being
a
sort
of
element
combined
of
the
sensual
and
the
spiritual
,
are
apt
to
deceive
us
in
this
manner
.
The
recollection
of
a
perfume
,
the
bare
idea
of
it
,
may
easily
be
mistaken
for
a
present
reality
.
"
"
Ay
;
but
my
sober
imagination
does
not
often
play
such
tricks
,
"
said
Baglioni
;
"
and
,
were
I
to
fancy
any
kind
of
odor
,
it
would
be
that
of
some
vile
apothecary
drug
,
wherewith
my
fingers
are
likely
enough
to
be
imbued
.
Our
worshipful
friend
Rappaccini
,
as
I
have
heard
,
tinctures
his
medicaments
with
odors
richer
than
those
of
Araby
.
Doubtless
,
likewise
,
the
fair
and
learned
Signora
Beatrice
would
minister
to
her
patients
with
draughts
as
sweet
as
a
maiden
’
s
breath
;
but
woe
to
him
that
sips
them
!
"
Giovanni
’
s
face
evinced
many
contending
emotions
.
The
tone
in
which
the
professor
alluded
to
the
pure
and
lovely
daughter
of
Rappaccini
was
a
torture
to
his
soul
;
and
yet
the
intimation
of
a
view
of
her
character
opposite
to
his
own
,
gave
instantaneous
distinctness
to
a
thousand
dim
suspicions
,
which
now
grinned
at
him
like
so
many
demons
.
But
he
strove
hard
to
quell
them
and
to
respond
to
Baglioni
with
a
true
lover
’
s
perfect
faith
.
"
Signor
professor
,
"
said
he
,
"
you
were
my
father
’
s
friend
;
perchance
,
too
,
it
is
your
purpose
to
act
a
friendly
part
towards
his
son
.
I
would
fain
feel
nothing
towards
you
save
respect
and
deference
;
but
I
pray
you
to
observe
,
signor
,
that
there
is
one
subject
on
which
we
must
not
speak
.
You
know
not
the
Signora
Beatrice
.
You
cannot
,
therefore
,
estimate
the
wrong
—
the
blasphemy
,
I
may
even
say
—
that
is
offered
to
her
character
by
a
light
or
injurious
word
.
"
