The mountains were still half veiled in darkness, the heavens appeared enveloped in a heavy and vast cloud; but he distinguished, through the faint dawn of the morning, crowds passing towards the opening on the right of the castle, villagers in their holyday garments. “What are those people doing? what has happened to cause all this joy?” And calling a bravo, who slept in the adjoining room, he asked him the cause of the commotion. The man replied that he was ignorant of it, but would go immediately and enquire. His master remained at the window, contemplating the moving spectacle, which increasing day rendered more distinct every moment. He saw crowds passing in succession; men, women, and children, as guided by one impulse, directing their steps in one direction. They appeared animated by a common joy; and the bells, with their united sound of merriment, seemed to be an echo of the general hilarity. The Unknown looked on intently, and felt an eager curiosity to know what could have communicated such happiness to such a multitude of people.
CHAPTER XXII.
The bravo hastened back with the intelligence, that the Cardinal Frederick Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan, had arrived the evening before at ***, and was expected to pass the day there. The report of his arrival being spread abroad, the people had been seized with a desire to see him; and the bells were rung in testimony of the happiness his presence conferred, and also to give wider notice of his arrival. The Unknown, left alone, continued to look down into the valley—“For a man! all crowding, all eager to see a man! And, nevertheless, each one of them has some demon that torments him; but none, none, a demon like mine; not one has passed such a night as I have. What is there in this man to excite such joy? Some silver which he will scatter among them.—But all are not actuated by such a motive. Well, a few words—Oh! if he had a few words of consolation for me! Yes—why should I not go to him? Why not? I will go. What better can I do? I will go and speak to him; speak to him alone. What shall I say to him? Why, why, that which——I will hear what he will say to me.”
Having come to this vague determination, he threw over his shoulders a military cloak, put his pistol and dagger in his girdle, and took from the wall, where it hung, a carabine almost as famous as himself; thus accoutred, he proceeded to Lucy’s chamber, and leaving his carabine at the door, he knocked and demanded admittance. The old woman hastened to open the door; he entered, and looking around the room saw Lucy tranquil and silent in the corner of it.
“Does she sleep?” asked he in a low voice. “Why did you suffer her to sleep there? Were these my orders?”
“I did all I could; but she would neither eat nor come——”
“Let her sleep then in peace; be careful not to trouble her, and when she wakes—Martha will be in the next chamber, and you must send her for whatever she may want—when she wakes—tell her I——that the signor has gone out for a little while, that he will return, and that—he will do all that she wishes.”
The old woman was astonished; “She must be some princess,” thought she.
The Unknown departed, took his carabine, gave orders to Martha to be in waiting, and to a bravo to guard the chamber, and not suffer any one to approach; then leaving the castle, with rapid steps he descended into the valley. The bravoes whom he met ascending the hill, stopped respectfully at his approach, expecting and awaiting orders for some expedition, and were astonished at his whole appearance, and the looks with which he returned their salute.