Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

"'Mamsell Flor,' he said; 'il y a du mystere, as sure as my name is Pierre!' and he would whistle the Marseillaise and wink; but in fact, the rogue knew nothing. To pass the time, he took it into his head to make love to Mamsell Gabrielle, but he soon let that alone. For modest as she was, yet she had a way of throwing back her head at times, you would have thought she was a duchess, and he found out that it was none of his Paris sewing women he had to deal with. Something French he must have, and so he took to the Bordeaux wine in our cellars, and often he was so drunk that he could not wait at table. But his master never said a word to him. The count was more gentle than he used to be; he never said an angry word, and at Christmas he made each of us a present. With the new year he took to dining downstairs in the hall, and of an evening he came early, and sat reading the newspapers all alone, at the master's table. But he did not like us to be silent; on the contrary, after supper, he made us stay and sing. The second forester had a fine bass voice, and Mamselle Gabrielle could sing like the very wood witch herself. We often sat up till past eleven, and it sounded, beautifully in the echo of the great hall. Many a time I saw the count drop the paper, and listen pensively, with his head leaning on his hand. But I always kept thinking of my own dear young count, and what a weary time he had been away; and I used to talk of him to Mamselle Gabrielle, till she sometimes fell asleep;--which made me cross with her.

"For the rest, we were always the best of friends, and it was no small shock to me, when one morning she came to tell me, that she was obliged to give up her place. She did not think the air was good for her; she meant to try another. Well, she had slept very badly, I knew, the night before. She still looked feverish, and her eyes were red; and as often as I called to her, she would begin trembling all over. She might have caught cold, for she had come home late from a walk in the woods the day before, and had gone straight to bed, without coming down to supper. 'Child,' I said;--'it will pass off. The air of this place is healthy; and where will you find so easy a situation, and so kind a master?--not to speak of my own humble self.' But the more I talked, the more positive she grew, and I thought I should only make her worse; so I went upstairs to my master, to tell him that Mamselle Gabrielle had just given warning.

"The count heard me out, and then he said: 'Do you know any reason for her going, Flor?'--when I began about her health;--'What room have you given her?' 'I took her into mine. Sir,' I said; 'Your honor knows the rooms on the first story, just opposite my lady's bedroom; I have slept in them for twenty years and more, and I never found anything unwholesome for one moment.'"

"He considered a while, and said: 'If Mamselle Gabrielle chooses to go, of course we can't prevent her, Flor; she is her own mistress. But at least, she shall not say that she lost her health in my service. Your rooms look to the forest, and the west winds come blowing against the windows. It must be damp; and in winter there is not a finger's breadth of sunshine. While Mamselle Gabrielle remains, you will have to give her another room. Put her in those opposite, that look into the court; they have the morning-sun full upon them; and then you may advertise for another situation for her.'

"I stared at him. 'I am to put Mamselle Gabrielle in the appartments where our gracious countess slept?'"

"He nodded. 'I will have it so:' he said shortly."

"'But all the furniture is just as it was then;' I went on, without minding his frown. 'How can I give my blessed mistress's things,--her bed and table, and her toilette service--to a stranger?'"

"'You can do as I bid you;' he said, very quietly. 'Leave every thing as it stands.'"

"'And if the poor thing gets worse;'--and I spoke more eagerly;--'whom has she at hand to look after her?'"

"'There is only the passage between you;' he answered. 'If Mamselle Gabrielle should be unwell, it will be very easy for you to nurse her.'"

"He sat down to the piano, and began to play, and so I was obliged to go. And I must say, fond as I was of Mamselle Gabrielle, it cut me to the heart to have to go down-stairs, and air those beautiful appartments, to put a servant in them. For that she was, the same as I was. And moreover, I did not like her face, when I told her what the count had been pleased to order. She first turned white, as if she had been frightened, and then she grew scarlet; she curled her lip half scornfully, and said: 'Very well; God will not forget me, wherever you may please to put me!' She took over her little bed with her, and would not put her bits of clothes in those beautiful inlaid drawers, but left them packed in her little trunk, all ready to go. And I liked that of her; and I kissed her, and begged her pardon in my heart, for having so grudged her my lady's rooms. She sobbed a while on my shoulder, and I had some little trouble in soothing her, but I laid it all upon the fever. That night, I left my door ajar, to hear if she went quietly to sleep; and all was quiet till about twelve o'clock. Then, all of a sudden, I thought I heard her talking loud and angrily. I jumped out of bed, and all the time I was feeling for my slippers, I heard her talking on. I could not catch the words till I got into the passage, and then I distinctly heard her say: 'I am only a poor servant-girl; but may the walls of this castle fall upon me, and crush me, rather than ...'

"I knocked at the door,--(which she had bolted by my advice),--and screamed out: 'Gabrielle, child! What is the matter? Answer me, for the love of God! Whom are you talking to?--Is the room haunted?'--No answer. I looked through the keyhole--nothing to be seen--I went on knocking and calling, but it was a long time before I could get a wiselike answer. 'Mamsell Flor? is that you? what makes you come so late?'--and presently I heard her unbolting the door.

"She stood before me in the darkness; only the snow gave a faint light from the windows. I took her hand, and felt it trembling and ice-cold. 'What makes you come to me so late, Mamsell Flor?' she said--'Have I been talking in my sleep? Oh! yes, I am ill; I think I am in a fever; just feel how my limbs are shaking!' And with that, she burst out crying. I got her to bed again as fast as ever I could, and sat up all night with her.

"In the morning she was too ill to rise, and did not get well again for more than a week. The count did not seem much concerned about it, though he sent Mr. Pierre to enquire after her.

"The first time she came downstairs to supper, my master went up to her, and said a few words in a low voice, and then she walked silently and thoughtfully to her seat. And silent and thoughtful she remained, for the matter of that. But she slept quietly of nights, and did her work, as usual, like a pattern. She asked me now and then, whether any answer had been made to our advertisement. Our letters all went through Mr. Pierre's hands, and he had heard of none. But she seemed in no hurry to go, and I was only too glad to have her stay.

"Spring came, and we were still without my dear young count. Instead of him, there arrived one day a very disagreeable stranger, a gentleman from London--and indeed I don't think that even my master was quite glad to see him. But he did his best to receive him civilly, as was due to an old acquaintance; he rode with him all over the country, and he invited people to play cards with him. They would sit up gambling till daybreak; trying all the wines in the cellar, and never once coming down to the hall.

"This went on for about a fortnight, and glad enough I was when I heard that the English Lord was going away next morning. The last day, they had been to dine at the Baron's, eight miles off; it might be about nine o'clock, when we heard their horses come pattering over the bridge. We were just at supper, and I was getting up to take a candle, and light the gentleman upstairs, but before we could leave the table, they came in. The English gentleman foremost, with that look he had in his eyes when he had just dined. And the count came after him, with his riding-whip under his arm, and his spurs jingling with that heavy tread by which I knew that his spirit was up.

"We all rise, and make our bows and curtsies; the English Lord, keeping his hat upon his head, gives us a sort of condescending nod, and says: 'Devil take long rides, Harry! I feel as stiff as a poker! don't let us go upstairs to-night; let us have our grog down here by the chimney corner--I incline to affability towards these your trusty vassals!'--and he stared from one of us to the other, and never listened to what the count was saying to him in French, in a low voice. All at once he catches sight of Mamsell Gabrielle, and chuckles quite out loud. 'Ha! Harry, old boy!' he cries; 'what an old fox you are! do you keep such doves as these in your hen-house? Foi de gentilhomme!'--and he laughed so insolently that I felt the blood rush into my face. 'Let us have this dove at supper, I say, with a good glass of Burgundy: you have plucked it long ago, of course--' and then another great roar of laughter. My very heart stood still--I looked at the poor girl--she was as white as the wall--and my master looked--Sir, I cannot tell you how he looked. He went close up to the Englishman, where he stood laughing, and said out loud: 'You will ask the young lady's pardon, sir, this moment--and then you will leave the room. I can protect my people from the insolence of any man, be he who he may!'"

"The Lord did not seem to hear him, and kept staring at the girl. 'By Jove!' he said, speaking thick with drink; 'deuced neat built she is! and I have been in the house a week and more, and never yet--Ah! Harry--I say--d--d sly old fox is Harry. Come, dear, don't let me frighten you.' And he stretched out his arm to take her round the waist, while the poor thing stood motionless against the wall, as if she had been struck by lightning--when we heard a sharp sound whistling through the air, and with a great oath the Lord drew back his hand. The count had drawn a broad red stripe across it with his riding-whip.

"Sir, I need not tell you all that passed that night; only, that by seven o'clock next morning my master had fought the stranger, without seconds, at a place they call the wolfs gap. We heard the crack of the four shots in the still February morning, and half an hour afterwards, the count came home bleeding from his left hand. He did not send for a surgeon, but had it bound up by his valet, Mr. Pierre, who had been with him on the ground, and told us that the Lord had not come off so easily; but he had been able to get on horseback and ride on to the next town.

"What that poor thing,--Gabrielle,--said to it all? Good Lord! She held her peace, as if she had really been turned to stone that evening--and what surprised me rather--she never thought of going to thank her master for what he had done; but she never talked of leaving now.

"From that morning when we heard the shots, she was so changed, I should scarcely have known her. She went through her work as usual, and was neither glad nor sad, only absent; so absent, that of an evening she would sit for hours, staring into the light, as if she were in a trance--and I must say these strange ways became her; she grew handsomer from day to day. We every one of us noticed it. As to the younger functionaries about the place, there was not a single man of them, who was not over head and ears in love with her. But she never seemed to see it--and not one of them had a kinder word to boast of than the others.

"Summer came, and brought no change. The count was still at the castle; Mr. Pierre sitting with his bottle before him half the day; and every body wondering and conjecturing what was likely to come of this new style of living. The busy tongues had a fresh match ready every week for my Master. For he had got to be far gayer; he willingly accepted invitations in the neighbourhood, and even gave little fetes in return, where he was all politeness. I had never known him to be in such a humour before, and I thanked God for it; the more, as we expected our young count to come home in the Autumn, and it would have broken my heart if they had not met in peace and kindness.

"And oh! Sir, that night, when my Count Ernest came, and his father rode out to meet him--(he came from Berlin, after having passed his examination most brilliantly)--I felt--his own mother could not have felt more. And when I saw him, so tall and handsome, riding beside his father through the triumphal arch of fir-trees the men had put up for him across the bridge--and the lovely transparency over the gate, with the word: 'Welcome!' and Mr. Pierre's rockets whizzing right up into the sky, I burst into tears, and could not speak a word--I only took his hand, and kept kissing it again and again.--

"And he was just the same as ever; and he stroked my face, and had his old jokes with me, that were only between us two. Ah! Sir, that was a pleasant meeting! The count--I mean the father--walked upstairs with his son, looking quite pleased and proud; and indeed it was a son to be proud of. I felt so cross with Mamsell Gabrielle, when I asked her what she thought of our young count, and found she could not tell me whether he were dark or fair. But when I came to consider of it, I said to myself that, after all, this was better than falling in love with him--for that was what I had always been afraid of.--Poor shortsighted creatures that we are!

"In the evening I was called upstairs, to help to wait upon the gentlemen, who had their supper in Count Henry's room. Monsieur Pierre's fireworks had so heated him, that he was not to be got out of the cool cellars that night at all; and I was only too happy to take his place, and have a good look at my young count. But my pleasure was soon spoiled, for the count his father soon began to talk again, as he used to do, of the good old times. 'The young folks of the present day,' he said, 'are fit for nothing but to sit by the chimney-corner, with their noses on their books--worse still, to write themselves--even for the daily papers.' I don't remember all he said--only some things that appeared to me the worst--some things I shall not forget to my dying-day.

"You must know. Sir, that when Count Henry had been a half-grown lad, he had, been taken to Paris by his father, just when the Empire was at its height; and as the old count (grand-father to our Count Ernest) had always been of those to whom Napoleon was as a god, of course they met with the best reception. The old count had been at Paris before, for some years during the revolution; and most of those bad bloody men had been his friends; and Count Henry began to talk of these. 'Do you suppose,' he said, 'that the Emperor could have fought these battles with our good bourgeois of the present day? Wild beasts those were he had to tame, and to let loose upon his enemies. There was a scent of blood in the very air of Paris then, that was withering to the sicklier plants; and turned the weaker spirits faint. But to a resolute man, the sulphureous atmosphere proved intoxicating. He would have dared a thousand devils. And as the men, so the women; all had tasted blood--and blood makes brighter eyes than household dust. Just look at our present world,'--he said--'our German world at least--compared to that! all so prim, precise, and regular, like the straight lines of a Dutch garden. Fathers, schoolmasters, and wise professors are there to trim it, and if anything escapes them, there is the police. If ever the brute begins to shew itself in man,--in civilized man--quick comes the police with a summons to expel it; but the beast is not to be expelled--it must have blood--if not in pailfuls, at least in drops--it will turn sneakingly domestic, and suck it from the veins of its nearest neighbour. Out upon the small sly social vices of the day! they are so shabby!--worse:--they are so stupid!--see what they will do for this puny generation when a time for action comes--for great deeds to be done by thorough men, and genuine mettle. When a man says he shrinks from shedding blood, and would not crush a worm, I say it is his own blood he is so chary of, and shrinks from shedding. At that time Death was the Parisian's familiar,--his bosom friend; together they fought and won the Emperor's great victories.' And then my master went on to talk of a ball where his father had been; they called it 'le bal des Zephirs,' because it was given on a spot which had been a churchyard--I forget the name of the church. And just above the skull and cross-bones upon the gateway, they had put up a transparency with the inscription: 'Le bal des Zephirs;' and they had danced like mad upon the graves and tombstones, till morning.

"All this time, my dear young count sat grave and silent, opposite his father, whose discourse, I could plainly see, appeared as blasphemous to him, as it did to me; but he spoke very calmly, and beautiful were the things he said:--'Man has progressed since then,' he said; 'it requires more energy to build up than to destroy.' In his opinion: 'a world without a sense of veneration must necessarily decay and fall in pieces, like a building without cement;' and more of the like which I have forgotten, more's the pity; but when he spoke, I used rather to watch his eyes, than mind his lips! His eyes would grow so clear, you could look right through them. Only one thing more I recollect; he said: 'A generation that can dance on the graves of its fathers, will assuredly care little for its children; a man who tramples upon the past, is unworthy of a future--'

"As these words escaped him, he turned red and stopped short,--fearful lest his father should be offended by them. But, bless you, he was not used to mind such trifles!

"'Bah!' says he: 'we are all the same--only we are quieter; we do the same things, only not to the sound of fifes and trumpets--we have no piping to our dancing. In every generation man is selfish, and has a right to be. There was another kind of ball in those days, they called it le bal des victimes. When the Convention had confiscated the property of the guillotined, it was returned to their heirs, after the 9th Thermidor. Thus many of them held their lands, par la grace de Robespierre. Young men began to live fast again, and to enjoy themselves. They gave balls where only those were admitted who could prove that some very near relation had been beheaded; it was a sort of herald's office to the scaffold; and to shew their gratitude for their inheritance, they invented a peculiar mode of salutation. A gentleman would go up to a lady, and jerk his head forwards, as if he dropped it, and the lady would do the same. They called it Salut a la victime; and all this with fiddling and dancing, and wax-lights and champagne. I do not admire that style of thing myself; it was a fashion like any other, and not a pretty one, I think; but I really do see no improvement in young people's babbling of the sanctity of family ties, and of their duty to their fathers, and forefathers, and sighing in secret for their turn to come, even if without the connivance of a Robespierre.'"

"I left the room, for I could not hear him speak in such a way, to such a son. I waited in the antechamber till Count Ernest came out to go to bed. He was sad and silent, and would have passed without noticing me, but I took up my light, and followed him. In the passage he suddenly stopped and looked eagerly up the staircase, that was well lighted with a two-branched lamp. 'What now?' thinks I--and then I saw Mamsell Gabrielle coming down from the loft with some plate she had been to fetch, and pass us on her way downstairs. When she had quite disappeared; 'Who is that, Flor?' says he, quickly turning to me--'Who is that lady?'

"When I told him, he shook his head. 'Can it be the same?' he murmured, 'or can I be so far mistaken?' And then after a while, when I had come into his room with him: 'Flor,' he said, 'I am right; she was only on a visit to X, when she was at that ball, and she left it again soon after. _Both_ parents did you say?--and so poor,--so friendless--that she was forced to go to service?--'

"'She wants for nothing here;' I said, to pacify him; for then I saw at once that she was that old flame of his, for whom he had pined so long. 'My dear young master,' I said, 'she could never be better off than she is here. His honor is very kind to her, and will have her treated with the greatest consideration and respect.'

"But he did not seem to hear me; he was sitting there in that great arm-chair by the open window--thinking, and thinking, till he made me feel quite nervous. He appeared to be so troubled in his mind, as all the past came over him, and all that he thought he had forgotten.

"The old rooms again; the tapestry with the hunting scenes; the furniture he had seen from his childhood; the dark woods before the windows, and then his father's horrid talk--if he forgot his poor old Flor a while, I am sure I could not wonder. I was about to steal quietly away and leave the room, when he saw me, and rising, he came and laid his two hands upon my shoulders:

"'Flor,' he said: 'if it should really come to pass--which is more than I dare to hope--what a wonderful,--delightful dispensation it would be!'

"'If _what_ should come to pass?' says I; for fond as I was of the girl, the idea that she could ever become our gracious countess was a thing I never could have dreamed of. 'Let us leave it all to Providence, Flor,' he said, very seriously. 'Good night, Flor--'

"And with that, he went to the window again, and I to my lonely room, where, for all it was so quiet, I could not fall asleep for hours.

"And so, next morning I overslept myself, and was quite ashamed when I saw the bright sun shining in at my window. My room just looked over the vegetable beds that Mamsell Gabrielle had laid out; and I saw her busy among them, cutting what was needed for the table. I was just going to call to her, and tell her how long I had been sleeping, when I saw Count Ernest coming out of the wood, and going towards the little garden. He bowed to her, and I saw how she stood up, and returned his bow with due respect, but quite naturally--not an idea of recognition--not even when he spoke to her;--nothing of the awkwardness of recollecting that her former partner now stood before her as her master. He appeared more embarrassed than she was. And as they crossed the garden, side by side, I could not help thinking to myself, if God should so appoint it, a handsomer pair could not be found in all the world. I was quite willing that the poor child should have all that happiness and honor, if she only made my boy as happy as he deserved to be.

"But you know, sir, 'man proposes, and God disposes,' as the proverb says, and I soon found out.

"I had not looked after them long, when Mr. Pierre came running to tell Count Ernest that his father was wanting him immediately--and soon after they rode away together; and indeed, sir, it was quite a sight to see that handsome father on his wild black horse, and the slender son riding a light brown Arab mare, as they galloped over the bridge into the wood. Mr. Pierre said they had been invited to the Baron's: there they had cast their hooks in haste for the son, when they found the father could not be made to bite; and indeed the three baronesses had not much time to lose; but 'they reckon without the host,' thinks I.

"As for Mamsell Gabrielle, I could not get much out of her. Many years ago she had been in X, on a visit to a friend, and there she had danced with our young master. It was plain that he had been so bashful, that she had no idea of the impression she had made; she talked of him as of any other young man. This made me cross, I must confess; but to be sure, it was all quite right, and far better so; and I resolved to have no hand whatever in the business, and neither by word or hint, to meddle with it, but to leave it entirely to Providence.

"When the gentlemen came back that night, I had a good long talk with my young count at last. He was very merry. He described the foolish dressed-up ways of these three lemon-colored baronesses, who in those last five years had grown so young and bashful, so girlish and so giggling; and had pouted so prettily at his father for being so bad a neighbour, hinting at their hopes that the son might make amends; and so, with one eye upon the father, and the other upon the son, altogether the attraction had been rather 'louche.'

"'Ah! Flor,' he said, 'it was just the thing to make me sick of the so-called proper matches. I half suspect my father to have taken me there on purpose to warn me from the daughters of the country, and make me feel the value of my liberty; he knows how I hate the thoughts of going to Stockholm, where they want to send me with the Legation. I had so far rather stay at home among my woods, and only be a sportsman, or a farmer. And you, Flor, you faithful soul, you would never bid me go. But when I just hinted at my wishes, treating them as a sort of romantic whim, I saw at once that by staying I should lose the last remnant of my father's good opinion; and indeed I have no occasion'--he said, with a faltering in his voice, that made my heart ache terribly--'I have no occasion to put his affection to too hard a test. After all, Flor, one has but one father, in this world.'"

"Poor boy, it was the first time he ever shewed how much it grieved him to be so little loved.

"'My darling Count Ernest,' I said; 'you know how I wish you all your heart desires; but to live here in this solitude, at your age, one had needs be wonderfully happy, or desperately wretched.'

"'And which was your case, Flor?' he asked.

"'I was happy,' I said; 'for I had a dear little master to bring up, who never for a moment let me feel that I was not his own mother, but only a penniless servant-girl.'

"He took my hand, and said; 'Right, you dear old woman! but if to live here, one must needs have everything one wishes, or nothing, why should I despair of having everything?'"

"I held my tongue, for I did not dare to begin first to speak of what he might be thinking needful to his happiness. He guessed what I was thinking of, for he said:

"'To be sure, even if the greatest of all gifts were within my reach, who knows whether I should be allowed to take it? Curious, how men contradict themselves! There is my father now, who never goes to court, because, he says, the nobility of to-day has nothing thorough-bred about it, if it be not in the stables. Yet how would he look, if I were to go and propose giving him a daughter who was only a blameless girl, who had been his servant? But I am talking nonsense. It is not likely that I shall be tempted to make such a proposal.'"

"'The safest way not to be tempted, is to go abroad;' I said, at last, as he sat silent and discouraged. 'For, my dear Count Ernest, if Mamsell Gabrielle appears to have no eyes for her young master, I am certain it is only because she is a servant girl, and knows what she is about. It would be a thousand pities for the poor child, if she were to suffer her heart to escape her through her eyes, for there would be no recalling it. I know her well: she has a brave spirit of her own; if she were to say:--"I will do this, if I were to die for it,"--she _would_ do it and die, without a word.'

"God knows, I found it hard to say all this to my darling boy, and moreover, presently I found that I had only been making matters worse.

"He had never hoped that the girl could love him, but now he interpreted her reserve more favorably; he thought it might be forced--in self-defence--to enable her to stand more firm; and that perhaps she suffered from it no less than he did. And indeed I thought the same. I, too, thought her changed since Count Ernest had been at home; she had grown graver and more absent. I often saw her sweet face change from white to red, without any sufficient cause. I meant to speak to my young count at the very first opportunity, and entreat him to come to some decision; to settle it one way or the other. But the opportunity did not come of itself, and I wanted heart to seek one. I loved him dearly, and it was hard for me to part with him so soon.

"And so a week passed, and then a fortnight, and three whole weeks, and the evil was growing daily before my eyes; and other eyes saw it too. At least I heard from Mr. Pierre, that the two counts had been talking of Stockholm again. Count Henry had insisted on Count Ernest's going at once, and Count Ernest had begged for time to think about it. After that the father had taken care that they should be out all day, so that his son should find no time for the handsome Mamsell Gabrielle. 'C'est drole,' says Mr. Pierre, the cunning creature; 'if my master were in love with the girl himself, he could not be more careful of her; but I would lay my life, that he has not the shadow of a liaison with her. It would be the first time he ever undertook such a thing, without my help; and how could he?--in this castle all over ears and eyes! No, I rather think there must be something deeper in it. The girl's mother, perhaps, you understand me. But this is strictly between us two, Mamsell Flor.' All this was puzzling, but the end was very different to anything my stupid head had thought of.

"One evening in October--by some chance or other there had been no riding out that day--Count Henry was busy with the steward's accounts, and Count Ernest had gone out with his gun and his melancholy to the woods. I heard a strange voice in the court, speaking to one of the men, and enquiring for Mamsell Grabrielle. She had just gone to the garden, to cut some dahlias and china-asters for the supper-table. So down I go, to ask the stranger what he wants with her, and feel quite pleased to hear it is her brother come from England all the way to see her. He had a serious, steady, manly way with him, that I rather liked, though his dress and manner were far below his sister's; indeed his dress was almost shabby. I gave him a hearty welcome, and told him how glad the dear girl would be to see him, and led him through the little postern-gate that opens to the moat and to the garden; and there, standing among the tall flowers, we saw our Gabrielle. She knew him in an instant, but, I thought, for a brother and sister who had not met for years, they were not so very eager about it.

"She turned pale, as though she were going to faint, and he held out his hand, saying a few words in a tone as if he pitied her. 'It is the first time they are together since they have been orphans,' thinks I; 'I must go and leave them by themselves;' and so I went back to my own room, and when I looked out of the window, I still saw them standing as I had left them. He was saying something, but nothing pleasant, it appeared, earnestly, in a low voice, while she only hung her head and listened.

"In about ten minutes' time, Count Ernest came out of the wood, and saw the two as they stood together. He went straight up to the stranger, and bowed to him politely, and I saw that he joined in their conversation. I could not hear what they said, they spoke so quietly. But at last the young count raised his voice: 'You will think better of it perhaps. How is it possible to decide so hastily? What does your sister say? what do you think of it, yourself, Gabrielle? Your sister is quite startled, you see, by this sudden break in the tenour of her life. Not even your brotherly affection for her should induce you to adopt any violent measures. Your sister is so highly valued by us;--she is so necessary to us all! I am sure she has no reason to wish for any change. If you will remain with us a few days as our guest, you will convince yourself, I hope, that life may be very tolerable in this wilderness of ours.'

"He held out his hand to the stranger, who was, I thought, rather slow to take it, and turned away, and after saying a word or two I could not catch, walked towards the castle.

"Count Ernest remained standing beside Gabrielle, saying nothing at first, but only looking earnestly in her face, while she looked down. Then he began to speak fast and low, and in my heart I felt every word he said, though I heard nothing; upon which she suddenly dropped her flowers, and covering her face with her two hands, she ran away and left him, and I could see that she was crying bitterly.

"He stood looking after her till she disappeared among the woods; he did not venture to follow her, but I saw that his face had that happy thoughtful look he used to have long ago, when, after the long winter, he would stand watching the sun rise above the woods for the first time, and feel that the sweet spring season was at hand.

"My heart melted, and I folded my hands, and prayed; I hardly know what I was praying for, till I heard the stranger's voice in the passage, asking Mr. Pierre if he could be admitted to speak to Count Henry, and there he stayed a long time. I heard them walking up and down in the room above me, talking loud and angrily. When the stranger was gone, and Count Henry had gone out, Mr. Pierre came and told me what he had heard in the ante-chamber.

"And then, Sir, I heard that the stranger had come all this way from England only to take his sister from us. And do you know what made him come? That duel with the English Lord was at the bottom of it all. It had appeared in the papers, and had been the talk in London for a day or two, and many of my master's old adventures and love affairs had been raked up again; so this brother had had no peace for thinking of it, and at last he had started off, travelling day and night, meaning to fetch his sister away at once, and take her with him just as she stood, without stopping one moment longer.

"'Mon cher,' had my master said; 'let me tell you that you are acting like a fool, to your own damage. I need not trouble myself to discuss with you what is likely to prove more injurious to your sister, my chastising a man who had insulted her, or your coming here to fetch her away, at a moment's notice, from a home where she is perfectly secure in the respect of all who know her, to take her to a strange place where there are numbers of such lords, who are not often likely to be so kind as to let you shoot them; but, as I said before, that is your own affair. Mine is, to see that your sister's liberty be respected, for she is of age; further, that the legal term of warning be observed. I am not prepared to dismiss my servants at a day's notice, just as they may think fit.'

"The young man had found a thousand reasons to oppose to this, speaking in an abrupt business-like way, and suffering himself to be so far carried away as at last to offer a sum of money for the rupture of the contract. And then my master had turned his back upon him, and gone out, leaving the bold man standing, who, after some consideration, had hurried away, and left the castle for the next town; probably to consult the burgher-master as to the lengths the law would let him go in his attempts to force the count to give up his sister.

"With all these things buzzing in my head, I felt crosser than ever with Mr. Pierre, and had no ears for his stale jokes. I wanted to ask Gabrielle herself what she wished to do; for, after all, that was the chief thing to be considered. So I went over to her room, to wait till she came back. It was all just as it used to be--the gilding on the mirrors and picture-frames, and on the furniture; and the beautiful hangings of green damask with a large raised pattern on it. And there was her plain servant's-bed under the silk curtains, and her trunk with her bits of clothes. I began to think how it would be if we had a young mistress living there; and while I was pondering, and looking at the picture of Count Henry over the sofa, painted when he was going to be married, (I will shew it you to-morrow, Sir), and seeing some dust upon the consoles, I took the corner of my apron and was going to wipe them, when I heard a noise like mice behind the hangings, and stood still to hear where it was coming from. Well, there is a great mirror in a broad old-fashioned frame, reaching down to the ground, (the fellow of it is up-stairs in Count Henry's room); behind this I heard a rustling and a creaking, and I was looking about to find the hole, when all of a sudden the floor begins to slide, as it were; I see my face in the glass going round, as if I were giddy, the wall opens in the gaping frame, and who should step out of it but my own Count Ernest!

"If I was dreadfully startled, he was no less astonished. 'Why Flor!' he cried, 'Good evening to you! Are you surprised? Here I come upon you like a thief in the night, in an odd way enough. I had no conception of such a thing--I wanted to speak to my father, and not finding him in his room, I waited for him. I was determined to tell him all, and not to pass another night in a state of such uncertainty. To her I had spoken--her brother wants to take her away, and I asked her whether she would find it so easy to go away and leave us, and if she thought she could be induced to stay for my sake? Upon which she burst into tears and ran away. But I rather hope you were right, Flor, and that there really may be nothing to part us but the coat-of-arms above the gateway. As for that, we might do without it, and quietly settle in a happier home. Just as I was thinking over what I would say to my father, my eye fell by chance on a part of the mirror where the frame appeared to have been damaged. I put my finger upon it mechanically, and was poking at it, when all at once the glass gave way, and then I saw a great gap staring me in the face. I had scarcely stepped through to see what was beyond it, when it closed upon me again and left me in the dark; and finding neither spring nor handle to open it again, there was nothing for it but to grope my way straight on, along a small passage, and then down a small winding staircase all pitch dark, and then I came to a dead halt against a wall. I must own that I had some slight shudderings and misgivings while I was feeling about for the spring, till I got hold of it. Deuce take these dungeons, Flor!' he cried, quite amused: 'Are there many of these moleworks in this place?--whither have they led me? Where am I now, Flor? Surely ... this is not your room, Flor? is it--was it not--my mother's? and now, now--does not--yes--does not Gabrielle--sleep--'

"He broke off short, and looked at me--and, oh! such a look of horror flared up in his frightened eyes. And then he closed them, as though he could not bear to look again on any human being. I myself felt more dead than alive, but I made an effort to speak--to say something.

"'It was for her health,' I said; 'only because the sun is on this room, that my master desired me to give it to Gabrielle. My dear boy,--my darling--what is it you are thinking of? What is there in this to trouble you so terribly? That passage,--you see, nobody ever knew of it--not even your father, probably. It is true the mechanism has not rusted--the springs slip smoothly into their grooves, but that is no reason--my dear Count Ernest--you cannot think--how should damp or dust get at it, where we take such care? It is a curious coincidence--a chance;' I said, and tried to feel convinced; 'how could it be anything else? and she such a modest girl, and so particular about her honor; and but a few months ago, my master'--And then I was fool enough--only think of the stupidity, Sir--to go and rake up that story of the duel, and in my fright I thought I was doing wonders to make him easy, and myself. But even whilst I was talking, the scales were dropping from my eyes; I saw how it was--who ever _does_ fight a duel for a servant after all? When I thought of this, I came to stammering, and could find nothing wiser to go on with than: 'It would be beyond belief--it must be a mistake,--or else I could never trust one human creature on earth again--scarcely the Lord in heaven.'

"He looked up at his father's picture on the wall, and then at her little trunk, and I saw that he did not believe in a mistake. I had taken hold of his hand in my agitation, and I felt that it was quite numb and cold; I don't believe there was a pulse in it. 'Flor,' he said, in a low voice; 'You will never tell how it chanced--you will tell no living soul--promise me, Flor.'

"I pressed his hand between both mine. I could not speak, for I felt as if ten millstones had fallen on my heart. He gently drew away his hand and left the room. Where he went, I never could find out. Nobody knew where the others were that evening. Count Henry did not come down to supper, Mamsell Gabrielle's brother did not return, and she herself was walking in the woods long after dark.

"As soon as my trembling legs would carry me, I went over to my own room; I wanted to hear or to see nothing of nobody--least of all, of Mamsell Gabrielle. That evening I hated her with all my heart and soul.

"'If the earth would only open and swallow her up!' I thought to myself a hundred times. 'If the woods would only fall upon her and crush her, before she should come between father and son, to estrange them still more than they already are!' I upbraided myself bitterly for having been melted by her pale face and her mourning, and taken her into the house, although I had felt a secret warning at the time; and then I thought of my own Count Ernest, how he was wandering all night about the woods half mad with grief--looking on his boyhood's brightest dream--on the only thing he had ever set his heart on--as some unnatural sin--perhaps--who knows?--as an offence to all he held most sacred. 'What will be the end of it all?' I lamented to myself, as I wrung my hands, and I felt as if the coming morning were to dawn on the day of judgment!

"When I heard the girl go past my door at bedtime, I shook all over with my hate and horror of her. If she had happened to come in, I really do not know what I should have done to her. If my boy had been poisoned by her, I don't think I could have hated her more. I could not conceive how I had been so blind.

"Not to call myself a fool, I called her all the names I knew. I abused her for the most horrid hypocrite, the sliest creature that ever ensnared a man or deceived a woman. I tied a great silk handkerchief over my head, that I might not hear her in her room, or be an unwilling witness if anybody came to her in the night.

"If anybody _did_, I did not know it. I had lighted my lamp and taken out my hymn-book; but, God forgive me, I did not know what I was reading. And I was hungry too, for I had not gone down to supper, and that made me feel still crosser with the girl.

"As for my master, I never thought of blaming anything he did. I had broken myself of _that_, years ago. At last I fell asleep with grief and hunger--at least, I suppose I did, for I was waked up suddenly by feeling a hand laid upon my shoulder. I could not hear, because I had my head tied up.

"The lamp had quite burned down, and the first grey of the morning light might be seen from the window. And beside my chair I saw Mamsell Gabrielle standing. I stared at her, for she had her little straw-bonnet on, and her brown shawl pinned across her chest, and her parasol in her hand. I really had some trouble to collect my thoughts and remember what had happened. Meanwhile that sad gentle face of hers had had time to melt the cruel crust of hate that had gathered about my heart. I untied my handkerchief and got up. 'Good heavens! what have you come here for? is it so late? have I been asleep?'

"'My dear Mamsell Flor,' she said, 'it is hardly four o'clock; I am very sorry to disturb you, but I have something to say to you, and I must say it. You were always so kind to me, it would hurt me to have you think ill of me when I am gone, if you did not know my reasons for the step I am about to take.'

"'What step?' I cried; 'What are you going to do? You are ready dressed for a journey; you don't mean to go and leave the house in this way, in the dark and cold? Your brother has not come back to fetch you.'"

"'I am going to him,' she said; 'I am going to beg him to take me away with him--to the very end of the world, rather than leave me here. Oh! that I had only had the courage to do so sooner! Miserable I might have been, for I should have left my heart behind me, but I should not have been sinful; and I could have looked you bravely in the face and said good-bye to you, my dear kind friend, who have been a mother to me. I know you will forgive me for all I have done, you are so good and pitiful. But now you will shiver when you hear my name, and when you think of one who has been the cause of all this misery, and made your darling feel the greatest pain a man can feel. Dear Mamsell Flor, only yesterday he told me that he loved me,--and I ... for many months I have been his father's--'

"She stopped, as if in horror at the sound of her own words; and I who but yesterday had been so full of rage and hate, Sir, a daughter of my own could hardly have melted me so soon. She stood before me the very picture of wretchedness, her bosom heaving, her eyes drooping, as though she could not bear one ray of light to fall upon her and her miserable lost life. I sat like one struck dumb, and at last, only to say something:

"'Won't you take a seat?' I said, 'You have a long way to go;' and then immediately I blushed at my own silliness--such foolish words, you know. Sir,--so out of place. But she did not seem to hear me. After a pause, she said: