Part 66 (2/2)
As Vivian was about to reply, he heard the joyous voice of young Maximilian; it sounded very near. The royal party was approaching. The Baronet expressed her earnest desire to avoid it; and as to advance or to retreat, in these labyrinthine walks, was almost equally hazardous, they retired into one of those green recesses which we have before mentioned; indeed it was the very evergreen grove in the centre of which the Nymph of the Fountain watched for her loved Carian youth. A shower of moonlight fell on the marble statue, and showed the Nymph in an att.i.tude of consummate skill: her modesty struggling with her desire, and herself crouching in her hitherto pure waters, while her anxious ear listens for the bounding step of the regardless huntsman.
”The air is cooler here,” said the Baroness, ”or the sound of the falling water is peculiarly refres.h.i.+ng to my senses. They have pa.s.sed. I rejoice that we did not return; I do not think that I could have remained among those lamps another moment. How singular, actually to view with aversion a scene which appears to enchant all!”
”A scene which I should have thought would have been particularly charming to you,” said Vivian; ”you are dispirited tonight!”
”Am I?” said the Baroness. ”I ought not to be; not to be more dispirited than I ever am. To-night I expected pleasure; nothing has happened which I did not expect, and everything which I did. And yet I am sad! Do you think that happiness can ever be sad? I think it must be so. But whether I am sorrowful or happy I can hardly tell; for it is only within these few days that I have known either grief or joy.”
”It must be counted an eventful period in your existence which reckons in its brief hours a first acquaintance with such pa.s.sions!” said Vivian, with a searching eye and an inquiring voice.
”Yes; an eventful period, certainly an eventful period,” answered the Baroness, with a thoughtful air and in measured words.
”I cannot bear to see a cloud upon that brow!” said Vivian. ”Have you forgotten how much was to be done to-night? How eagerly you looked forward to its arrival? How bitterly we were to regret the termination of the mimic empire?”
”I have forgotten nothing; would that I had! I will not look grave. I will be gay; and yet, when I remember how soon other mockery besides this splendid pageant must be terminated, why should I look gay? Why may I not weep?”
”Nay, if we are to moralise on worldly felicity, I fear that instead of inspiriting you, which is my wish, I shall prove but a too congenial companion. But such a theme is not for you.”
”And why should it be for one who, though he lecture me with such gravity and gracefulness, can scarcely be ent.i.tled to play the part of Mentor by the weight of years?” said the Baroness, with a smile: ”for one who, I trust, who I should think, as little deserved, and was as little inured to, sorrow as myself!”
”To find that you have cause to grieve,” said Vivian, ”and to learn from you, at the same time, your opinion of my own lot, prove what I have too often had the sad opportunity of observing, that the face of man is scarcely more genuine and less deceitful than these masquerade dresses which we now wear.”
”But you are not unhappy?” asked the Baroness with a quick voice.
”Not now,” said Vivian.
His companion seated herself on the marble bal.u.s.trade which surrounded the fountain: she did not immediately speak again, and Vivian was silent, for he was watching her motionless countenance as her large brilliant eyes gazed with earnestness on the falling water sparkling in the moonlight. Surely it was not the mysterious portrait at Beckendorff's that he beheld!
She turned. She exclaimed in an agitated voice, ”O friend! too lately found, why have we met to part?”
”To part, dearest!” said he, in a low and rapid voice, and he gently took her hand; ”to part! and why should we part? why--”
”Ask not; your question is agony!” She tried to withdraw her hand, he pressed it with renewed energy, it remained in his, she turned away her head, and both were silent.
”O! lady,” said Vivian, as he knelt at her side, ”why are we not happy?”
His arm is round her waist, gently he bends his head, their speaking eyes meet, and their trembling lips cling into a kiss!
A seal of love and purity and faith I and the chaste moon need not have blushed as she lit up the countenances of the lovers.
”O! lady, why are we not happy?”
”We are, we are: is not this happiness, is not this joy, is not this bliss? Bliss,” she continued, in a low broken voice, ”to which I have no right, no t.i.tle. Oh! quit, quit my hand! Happiness is not for me!” She extricated herself from his arm, and sprang upon her feet. Alarm, rather than affection, was visible on her agitated features. It seemed to cost her a great effort to collect her scattered senses; the effort was made with pain, but with success.
”Forgive me,” she said, in a hurried and indistinct tone; ”forgive me! I would speak, but cannot, not now at least; we have been long away, too long; our absence will be remarked to-night; to-night we must give up to the gratification of others, but I will speak. For yours, for my own sake, let us, let us go. You know that we are to be very gay to-night, and gay we will be. Who shall prevent us? At least the present hour is our own; and when the future ones must be so sad, why, why, trifle with this?”
CHAPTER XI
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