“‘He turned, and I watched his retreating form gradually fade in the moonlight, with a heart bounding with gratitude and joy at the prospect of my approaching deliverance. The horses were waiting on the by-road by the side of the château, and I could hear their joyous neigh from the gate where I was leaning to gaze after Giordoni. Everything seemed to breathe of peace and happiness. There was a nightingale perched among the branches of the mulberry tree beneath which I stood, and her joyous melody gushed forth unsubdued, more free and unconstrained methought when the shadow of Giordoni no longer darkened the pathway; multitudes of the bright green glow-worms peculiar to the summer nights of our country, were chasing each other over the smooth turf. I thought I had never beheld a night of such calm, such placid beauty.
“‘I was like the schoolboy about to escape the dominion of his pedagogue; eager to be free, yet scarcely as yet decided on the use that he would make of his long-coveted liberty. I had many plans in view, but none as yet decided.
“‘I will go from hence to Lyons,’ said I to myself, as I returned with light step towards the house; ‘there will I remain for a while, to study the manners of the people of whom I have heard so much; then on—on to Paris; ’tis there and there alone “qu’on trouve le génie si on n’en a pas.” I could scarcely contain my feelings at the thought of the change which by my own address and discretion I was about to work in my destiny, and I whistled and sang aloud in glee at the bare thought of so much happiness.
“‘No more slavery, no more espionnage, and—shall I own it, my friends?—no more fear of a cold and disdainful love! Yes, there was the secret of the discontented misery of the last few months of my existence. From the evening of my first visit at the villa of Count V——, I had become the slave of the fair Signora Isabella. Her disdain of my advances, her coldness, had served to increase my passion, but had changed its character. Hope had given way to defiance, defiance to despair, yet still I loved, and this was the reason why I wished to flee in secret from the home where I was born, like a thief or an usurper—this it was that drove me forth to seek elsewhere the liberty I felt that I had lost—the repose which I so greatly needed. All these subjects for the future passed rapidly through my mind as I returned up the avenue. I had just gained the hall, I was ascending the steps which led to my apartment, when I was startled by the sound of footsteps close behind me. I was alarmed: I knew that the domestics had been all dismissed, and had long before retired from that part of the building, while the agent had my orders to await me with the horses. I turned in trepidation, my heart fluttered in my bosom, and my cheek grew pale as marble—it was Giordoni who followed me!
“‘Such was the state of abject fear in which I lived that, in the nervous agitation of the moment, I was about to confess my guilty design, and to sue for pardon; but there was neither anger nor suspicion upon the brow of the Jesuit, and it was with a calm and gracious smile that he spoke, as he held up before me a little billet which scented the air with the sweetest perfume.
“‘See what a faithless messenger am I,’ said he, shaking his head with a bonhomie quite paternal; ‘I was commissioned to deliver this letter with great dispatch, and had well-nigh forgotten it altogether! ’Twas well I thought of it before I got home, for I know not how I might have been received had I returned without the answer.’
“‘I was seized with sudden faintness as I mechanically unsealed the billet and gazed at the signature. It was from the demoiselle Isabella de V——, and, as I read the contents, my very soul gave way beneath the influence of the kindness and the tender tone it breathed.
“‘Need I say that I departed not that night—that I even retired to rest rejoicing that I had been prevented from listening to the rash suggestions of my evil genius, for such I was soon taught to believe the secret warnings of my better reason, to which had I but hearkened then, I should have been saved a whole life of misery.
“‘To you, who are both men of the world, there is no need to describe the sequel. Before three months had elapsed, I had become as fervent a proselyte to the principles which governed the “blessed Order” as Giordoni himself!—In three months more, the land which my father had saved with so much care and pains, and which I myself had toiled so assiduously to improve, deeming it a heritage to descend to my children’s children, was no longer my own; it belonged by promise to the holy society of Jesus, of whom I now was proud to sign myself a weak, unworthy member. During all this time I had lived in a dream—a delusion the more wild and stirring, inasmuch as I am of a cold and torpid character, requiring the most powerful emotions to rouse me from my apathy. I do not think that I ever reflected on the future. It was enough that the Contessa Isabella loved me. She told me so again and again, and each time that she had spoken the words, I had granted some concession of which I repented not, deeming no sacrifice too great to win that single smile which I had by this time learned to prize more highly than my fortune—than my very life—to deem more precious than my father’s memory or my mother’s love! I was roused from the trance into which I had fallen by a letter from my brother Cesario, which was put into my hand on my return home late one evening from the villa V——. It contained but few words, full of darkness and mystery—the restraint of one labouring under the terror of discovery.
“‘I have much to tell you,’ wrote he; ‘beware! you are deceived. I shall be with you to-night, but let it not be known. I wish to say but one word to you, and must depart again before dawn, without leaving the slightest trace of my visit. Let the gate at the bottom of the garden be left unlocked to-night, and, when all in the château have retired to rest, meet me by the tank close to the entrance. Hesitate not—I shall wait there till you come. You will find upon the first step of the reservoir a branch of the alder which grows there, which I will cut the moment I arrive, as a signal that I am waiting for you.’