A summons for breakfast broke in upon her solitude, and descending into the breakfast-room, she was received by the Signora with more than her accustomed tenderness, who mingled the most refined compassion with her solicitude; and after a short consolatory address, which was delivered with the most attractive gentleness, besought her to rely upon her friendship, which she might rest assured would never be withdrawn from her, but should be ever exerted most sedulously for her security and happiness.
Laurette could only answer with her tears, for her heart was too full for utterance, and her gratitude far beyond the powers of expression.
The day was passed, as usual, in a variety of simple occupations, but with less tranquillity than many of the preceding ones; and towards the close of it, our heroine being in hourly expectation of the arrival of the Marchese, repaired to an anti-chamber adjoining the Signora's apartment, where she frequently passed many hours in the morning, in reading, drawing, embroidery, or other works of taste and fancy.
As she was amusing herself in the arrangement of some books that were placed in a recess in the wall, she discovered, amongst the rest, a manuscript volume bound in black, the property of the Signora, containing a number of Poems written by herself, chiefly of the elegiac kind, from which she selected the two following little pieces of poetry, apparently composed by the Signora in her affliction, after the loss of Lorenzo d'Orso and her infant son.
TO DEATH
Hail, awful Power, no human heart denies.
Who com'st unsought for, and when ask'd, denies;
Thou, who did'st give this bosom ceaseless woe.
Repress the tears which thou hast taught to flow.
Was 't not enough, with direful hand, to wrest
A beauteous infant from a mother's breast;
But must a husband, and a father, feel
Thy arm, relentless as the murderer's steel?
When first, Oh Tyrant! thy sad work began.
How thro' my veins the thrilling horror ran;
Awhile entranc'd in speechless grief I lay.
This heart forgot to beat, each pulse to play.
Till ling'ring, near her home, the vital flame
Faintly revisited her mortal frame;
These eyes, reluctant, met the op'ning light.
And long'd for slumbers of eternal night.
Oh! thou, at once the foe and friend of man.
In pity finish what thy rage began.
Oh! come, I hail thee now a welcome guest.
And with thee bring that long-sought stranger, Rest.
I ask no strains of elegiac woe.
No pensive tear on my cold urn to flow;
But young Delight shall clap his cherub wing.
And soft-ey'd virgins Hymeneals sing.
With freshest flowers shall strew the gladsome way.
And choral music melt on every spray;
Their vestal hands my hallow'd tomb prepare.
Whilst sounds celestial float upon the air.
When loosen'd from her mean companion, clay.
The soul, exulting, wings her heavenly way;
Quicker than thought, through constellations flies.
Leaves the gross air, and anchors in the skies.
Ah! come, Lorenzo, from thy bright abode.
Smooth the rude path, and lead me to my God!
Descend in all thy blaze of heavenly charms.
New woo me now to thy celestial arms;
Prepare thy roseate seats, seraphic bowers.
Nectarious sweets, and never fading flowers.
Fancy presents thy beauteous image now.
The amaranthus blooming on thy brow.
Whose varied tints surpass the Tyrian hues.
Sweeter than perfume of Arabian dews.
When the bright God of Day retires to rest.
And softly sinks on Ocean's silver breast;
When hush'd in night the stormy winds are laid.
And gentle moon-beams tremble through the shade;
If yet thy Emma claims thy guardian care.
In slumbers soft, etherial whispers bear;
Hush the rude tumults of each rising sigh.
And wrap my soul in visionary joy.
SONNET
Ah! why, sweet Philomel, that plaintive song.
Why dost thou shun the day star's glitt'ring light.
To mourn, unseen, the woodland glades among.
And tune thy vesper to the Queen of night?
Art thou too widow'd? has relentless Fate.
From thy fond breast, thy sweet companion tore?
Does faithful Memory every charm relate.
And tell of raptures thou must know no more?
If such thy woes, sweet bird, ah! yet again
Pour through the shades of Eve the liquid strain;
Still dwell like me, on long-regretted hours.
Till Morn, bright sparkling through the murky gloom.
Sheds on the zephyrs' wing her wild perfume.
And wakes, to light and life, the op'ning flowers.
The distant rolling of a carriage at last announced the approach of the Marchese; and, in a state of mind that partook of terror, Laurette advanced towards the lattice, and in the same moment beheld a splendid chariot stop suddenly at the gate, and soon afterwards the Marchese alight. The dusk of the evening, for it was past twilight, prevented her from distinguishing his figure, any otherwise than that he was tall, and appeared stately.
He did not address any of the domestics that were crowded about to receive him, except Paoli, and then walked silently through the courts.
She now waited impatiently for the Signora, anxiously listening to every approaching footstep till near an hour had elapsed, when she ventured into the corridor to listen if she could hear her voice.
An universal stillness seemed to prevail through the castle, except in that part of it which was inhabited by the servants, from which a loud and coarse laugh occasionally proceeded. At last the long-expected step was heard ascending the spiral stair-case, and Laurette, overjoyed to be released from this state of inquietude, sprang forwards to meet her beloved friend, and to ask if any enquiries had been made relative to herself.
"My Lord," returned the Signora, "being fatigued and indisposed, means to retire early to his room. He has mentioned you, but has not intimated a desire of being introduced to you this evening; you may therefore compose yourself, my dear friend, and be assured you have nothing to fear. In the morning I shall be enabled to give you some further information upon the subject, and in the mean time I request you will endeavour to fortify your mind, and not allow yourself to yield to imaginary distresses."
The Signora was in fact unacquainted with the principal cause of her uneasiness, and consequently was not capable of forming a judgment upon the matter; but her valuable advice was not lost upon Laurette, who always endeavoured to profit by the virtuous precepts and examples of others, which she always received with gratitude, and beheld with admiration.
Thankful for this temporary release, and re-assured by the words of the Signora, the night passed with less agitation than the preceding one; and having yielded to the sweet influence of undisturbed repose, she awoke more refreshed and tranquillized than before, and after offering up her meek and plaintive devotions, waited patiently for the Signora, who promised to visit her in the morning, and to breakfast with her at the accustomed hour.
She entered at the appointed time, and observed, with pleasure, that Laurette appeared less dejected than when she saw her last; and that she was able to converse with ease, though not with vivacity, upon indifferent subjects.
A summons for the casiera to attend upon the Marchese in the saloon, put an end to all farther discourse; and Laurette requesting that she would return to her as soon as she was again at leisure, remained in her room, occasionally amusing herself with reading, drawing, or in taking a survey of the rich and glowing landscape from one of the balconies.
The Signora found t
he Marchese busily employed in looking over some papers, which had been delivered to him by his steward, which he laid aside as soon as she entered, and politely offered her a chair. After some general conversation, concerning the furniture and recent improvements at the castle, he asked carelessly about Laurette, if she seemed satisfied with her new situation, or lamented being removed from the Castle of Elfinbach; and then, without waiting for an answer, reverted to the former subject, and enquired how she had disposed of the paintings and other ornamental effects; and then proposed taking a view of the whole range of apartments, that he might give some directions concerning them.
The greater part of the day was passed by the Signora in attending upon her Lord, who was apparently highly gratified with her judgment and taste; though she seized every interval of leisure, and dedicated it to the society of her lovely friend, who now determined to confine herself to her chamber, till the Marchese should intimate a desire to see her; secretly wishing that moment might never arrive, which had been so long anticipated with terror. Thus devoted to solitude and silence, she employed her time in writing to Enrico, frequently destroying what she had written, lest it should increase his uneasiness; and then beginning other letters, and throwing them aside, because as little to her satisfaction as the former ones.
Towards the evening she entered again into the balcony, and saw, at the farthest extent of the terrace, the Marchese in conversation with Paoli. They were a considerable distance from her apartment, but being unwilling to be seen by them, she retired; and closing the casement, stood for some minutes leaning pensively over the back of a chair, which was placed directly under the windows, contemplating the fine features of nature, and the beautiful variety of objects it commanded, till she saw them descend from the terrace, (which, after extending the whole length of the edifice, wound round the western turret, and then terminated in a gentle slope); then ascending a winding path, hewn in the rock below, which was shaded from her view by thick groves of fir, acacia, and pomegranate, they glided into obscurity.
The Marchese, from this transient survey, seemed to be listening to the discourse of his steward with much deference and attention, whilst Paoli talked much; though, from distance, she could only distinguish a faint murmur, which was accompanied with much eagerness of gesticulation.
As soon as they were gone, she retired from the window, and, stirring up the almost decayed embers, sat down by the fire, and endeavoured to finish her epistle; but it was nearly dark, and being compelled to defer it for the present, she resolved to conclude it on the following day.
In about an hour the Signora returned to her room, with a message from the Marchese, who desired to see her immediately, as he was waiting to receive her in one of the lower apartments.
Knowing the necessity of obeying him, and having been in continual expectation of a similar address, she summoned all her spirits to her aid, and prepared to comply with the command.
They found him in one of the saloons, lounging carelessly upon a sofa, with a book in his hand, which he appeared to be reading so attentively that he either did not, or affected not, instantly to observe them. The Signora's voice, however, roused him from his abstraction, and fixing his eyes upon Laurette, with a look expressive of surprise, he arose involuntarily as they advanced, and led her to a seat. A silence of some moments ensued, which none seemed disposed to interrupt, proceeding rather from embarrassment than any other cause, till the Marchese, with many symptoms of confusion, began to make an enquiry concerning the old castle she had quitted; at the same time avoiding making any mention of Madame Chamont, and then suddenly changing the discourse, as if fearful it might lead to a subject that would be entered upon with reluctance.
If he was charmed with the beautiful form of Laurette, which, though pale with apprehension and terror, was infinitely more charming than any thing his imagination could have portrayed, he was not less so with her manners; and the silent admiration with which he regarded her, though it tended to heighten her distress, increased the natural loveliness of her person.
Susceptible even to weakness, the mind of the Marchese became entirely absorbed in the contemplation of so much delicacy and sweetness, which no recent hint had prepared him to expect; and as he continued to observe her with an earnestness that evinced the power of her attractions, he soon became insensible to every other object.
Anxious to put an end to an interview, rendered painful by embarrassment, Laurette arose soon afterwards, and would have withdrawn; but this the Marchese so ardently opposed, that she was compelled to relinquish the design, and to return, though reluctantly, to her seat. There was something in her appearance and demeanour so different from what his imagination had suggested, that he continued to gaze upon her with augmenting surprise. But what was his astonishment when that timid reserve, that retiring delicacy, which had hitherto veiled many natural perfections, being now in some degree conquered, she discovered what had only been transiently obscured, a highly cultivated and accomplished mind, whose strength, softness, and elegance gave power and energy to beauty. How much unlike the poor, unpatronized, neglected orphan, which his fancy had delineated; nurtured in solitude, and consigned early to grief and misfortune, with a mind unstored with virtuous principles, and features marked with no other expression than that of dissatisfaction and regret, perhaps with rustic coarseness and vulgarity.
Nor was the interesting person of the Signora d'Orfo, or the polished ease of her manners, unobserved or beheld with indifference, so little expected in the humble capacity in which she had engaged; and, as conversation awakened the powers of her mind, her superiority over the greater part of her sex was so striking, that he resolved almost instantaneously to make a companion of her, as well as of Laurette, whom he now began to reflect upon with increasing partiality.
When the supper hour drew near, the casiera, not forgetting the humility of her station, arose to depart; but the Marchese prevented her design, by desiring that she would continue with him the evening, which request he concluded by ordering a repast to be immediately prepared in an adjoining room.
This was a proposal which contained too flattering a proof of her Lord's esteem and condescension to be received without pleasure; and had she been disposed to have rejected it, the expressive look conveyed by her lovely young friend, would have counteracted the intention. Being again seated, she joined in the conversation, which now became general, with more than her accustomed vivacity; and Laurette, though somewhat chagrined at not being permitted to retire when she ventured to make the attempt, being considerably re-assured by the Signora's continuance in the party, insensibly lost much of her reserve, and though her lovely countenance retained the same pensiveness of expression, it was occasionally enlivened with smiles, and lighted up with intelligence.
As an Italian and a woman of birth, the Signora was acquainted with several families of consequence in Italy, which were personally known to the Marchese. This circumstance led to much unreserved communication, and the frankness and ease with which she delivered her sentiments, entirely divested of that servile kind of fear which frequently accompanies conscious inferiority, so exalted her in his estimation, that his behaviour was at once attentive and respectful.
After having partaken of a slight but elegant repast, with the addition of some dried Italian fruits, by way of dessert, the ladies were allowed to retire, but not without first promising to breakfast with the Marchese on the following day.
As soon as they had quitted the room, the Signora could not forbear speaking of her Lord in the highest and most respectful terms, and awaited impatiently Laurette's opinion upon the subject, who confessed he was more agreeable and condescending than she expected to have found him; but it was easy to discover that her former prejudices were not entirely removed, and, though she acquiesced in the sentiments of her friend, her apprehensions relative to his future conduct were not dissipated.
CHAPTER VII
In each wild song that wakes the vale around.
My fair one's fascinating voice I hear.
And Fancy bids the soft lute's silver sound.
Waft her mild accents to my ravish'd ear.
Deep grav'n by Love, thy image ne'er shall fade.
While Memory in this breast maintains her seat;
And when for thee it beats not, lovely maid.
Each trembling pulse of life shall cease to beat.
-SALMAGUNDI
In the morning the ladies met in the breakfast parlour somewhat later than the accustomed hour, and were soon afterwards joined by the Marchese. He was more animated than on the preceding day, discoursed with ease and elegance upon every subject that was introduced, and directed his attentions so peculiarly to Laurette, that her confusion and distress were evident.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 358
