Part 23 (2/2)
”The moonlight scene from Romeo and Juliet.”
Harry submits.
Meanwhile, Lato, with his brown attendant, wanders along the shady paths of the Dobrotschau park. Now and then he pays some attention to his s.h.a.ggy companion, strokes his head, sends him after a stick, and finally has him take a bath in the little reed-encircled lake on the sh.o.r.es of which stand weather-stained old statues, while stately swans are gliding above its green depths. These last indignantly chase the clumsy intruder from their realm.
”Poor fellow! they will have none of you!” Treurenberg murmurs, consoling the dog as he creeps out upon the bank with drooping tail and ears.
Suddenly he hears the notes of a piano from the direction of the castle. He turns and walks towards it, almost as if he were obeying a call.
Pausing before an open gla.s.s door leading into the garden, he looks in upon a s.p.a.cious, airy apartment, the furniture of which consists of a large Gobelin hanging, a grand piano, and some bamboo chairs scattered about.
At the piano a young girl is seated playing a dreamy improvisation upon 'The Miller and the Brook,' that loveliest and saddest of all Schubert's miller-songs. It is Olga. Involuntarily Lato's eyes are riveted upon the charming picture. The girl is tall and slim, with long, slender hands and feet. If one might venture to criticise anything so beautiful as her face, its pure oval might be p.r.o.nounced a thought too long.
Her features are faultless, despite their irregularity; the forehead is low, the eyebrows straight and delicately pencilled, the eyes large and dark, and, when she opens them wide, of almost supernatural brilliancy.
The mouth is small, the under lip a trifle too full, and the chin a little too long.
Those irregularities lend a peculiar charm to the face, reminding one of certain old Spanish family portraits,--dark-eyed beauties with high collars, and with huge pearls in their ears. The facts that Olga neither wears a bang nor curls her hair upon her forehead, but has it parted simply in the middle to lie in thick waves on either side of her head, and that her complexion is of a transparent pallor, contribute still further to her resemblance to those distinguished individuals.
She wears a simple white gown, with a Malmaison rose stuck in her belt.
Lato's eyes rest upon her with artistic satisfaction. The tender melody of the Miller's Song soothes his sore heart as if by a caress. He softly enters the room, sits down, and listens. Olga, suddenly aware by intuition of his presence, turns her head.
”Ah!--you here?” she exclaims, blus.h.i.+ng slightly, and taking her hands from the keys.
”I have made so bold,” he replies, smiling. ”Have you any objection?”
”No; but you should have announced yourself,” she says, with a little frown.
”Ah, indeed!” he rejoins, in the tone in which one teases a child.
”Well, the listening to a musical soliloquy is generally considered only a harmless indiscretion.”
”Yes; when I am playing something worth listening to I have no objection, but I prefer to keep my halting improvisations to myself.”
”Well, then, play something worth listening to,” he says, good-humouredly.
She turns again to the instrument, and begins, with great brilliancy of touch, to play a bravura-scherzo, by some Viennese composer at present in fas.h.i.+on.
”For heaven's sake,” Treurenberg, whose feeling for music is as delicate as his appreciation of all beauty, interrupts her, ”do not go on with that ghastly Witches' Sabbath!”
”The 'ghastly Witches' Sabbath' is dedicated to your cousin, Countess Wodin,” Olga replies, taking up a piece of music from the piano. ”There it is!” she points to the t.i.tle-page ”'Dedicated to the Frau Countess Irma Wodin, _ne_ Countess Trauenstein, by her devoted servant, etc.' I thought the thing might interest you.”
”Not in the least. Be a good girl, and play the Miller's Song over again.”
She nods amiably. Again the dreamy melody sighs among the strings of the piano. Lato, buried in thought, hums the words,--
”Where'er a true heart dies of love, The lilies fade that grave above.”
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