Part 15 (2/2)

This grove opened, a little, near the middle; and, in the s.p.a.ce thus cleared, there stood with a surrounding flight of steps a small Greek temple or shrine, with a statue in the center. It was built of white marble with fluted Corinthian columns, and the crevices were tufted with gra.s.s; moss had shown itself on pedestal and cornice, and signs of long neglect and decay were apparent in its discolored and weather-worn marble. A few feet in front of the steps a fountain, fed from the great ponds at the other side of the chateau, was making a constant tinkle and splas.h.i.+ng in a wide marble basin, and the jet of water glimmered like a shower of diamonds in the broken moonlight. The very neglect and half-ruinous state of all this made it only the prettier, as well as sadder. I was too intently watching for the arrival of the lady, in the direction of the chateau, to study these things; but the half-noted effect of them was romantic, and suggested somehow the grotto and the fountain, and the apparition of Egeria.

As I watched a voice spoke to me, a little behind my left shoulder. I turned, almost with a start, and the masque, in the costume of Mademoiselle de la Valliere, stood there.

”The Countess will be here presently,” she said. The lady stood upon the open s.p.a.ce, and the moonlight fell unbroken upon her. Nothing could be more becoming; her figure looked more graceful and elegant than ever.

”In the meantime I shall tell you some peculiarities of her situation.

She is unhappy; miserable in an ill--a.s.sorted marriage, with a jealous tyrant who now would constrain her to sell her diamonds, which are--”

”Worth thirty thousand pounds sterling. I heard all that from a friend.

Can I aid the Countess in her unequal struggle? Say but how the greater the danger or the sacrifice, the happier will it make me. _Can_ I aid her?”

”If you despise a danger--which, yet, is not a danger; if you despise, as she does, the tyrannical canons of the world; and if you are chivalrous enough to devote yourself to a lady's cause, with no reward but her poor grat.i.tude; if you can do these things you can aid her, and earn a foremost place, not in her grat.i.tude only, but in her friends.h.i.+p.”

At those words the lady in the mask turned away and seemed to weep.

I vowed myself the willing slave of the Countess. ”But,” I added, ”you told me she would soon be here.”

”That is, if nothing unforeseen should happen; but with the eye of the Count de St. Alyre in the house, and open, it is seldom safe to stir.”

”Does she wish to see me?” I asked, with a tender hesitation.

”First, say have you really thought of her, more than once, since the adventure of the Belle etoile?”

”She never leaves my thoughts; day and night her beautiful eyes haunt me; her sweet voice is always in my ear.”

”Mine is said to resemble hers,” said the mask.

”So it does,” I answered. ”But it is only a resemblance.”

”Oh! then mine is better?”

”Pardon me, Mademoiselle, I did not say that. Yours is a sweet voice, but I fancy a little higher.”

”A little shriller, you would say,” answered the De la Valliere, I fancied a good deal vexed.

”No, not shriller: your voice is not shrill, it is beautifully sweet; but not so pathetically sweet as hers.”

”That is prejudice, Monsieur; it is not true.”

I bowed; I could not contradict a lady.

”I see, Monsieur, you laugh at me; you think me vain, because I claim in some points to be equal to the Countess de St. Alyre. I challenge you to say, my hand, at least, is less beautiful than hers.” As she thus spoke she drew her glove off, and extended her hand, back upward, in the moonlight.

The lady seemed really nettled. It was undignified and irritating; for in this uninteresting compet.i.tion the precious moments were flying, and my interview leading apparently to nothing.

”You will admit, then, that my hand is as beautiful as hers?”

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