“Which of us can claim an exemption from sorrow, Jasper? Do you not think that the little village yonder, in that cleft of the mountain—secluded as it looks—has not its share of this world's griefs? Are there not the jealousies, and the rivalries, and the heartburnings of large communities within that narrow spot?”
While he was yet speaking, a messenger came to summon me home. The Countess, he said, was waiting dinner for me, and yet no invitation came for Raper. He seemed, however, not to notice the omission, but, taking my hand, led me along homeward. I saw that some strong feeling was working within, for twice or thrice he pressed my hand fervently, and seemed as if about to say something; and then, subduing the impulse, he walked on in silence.
“Make my respectful compliments to the Count, Jasper,” said he, as we came to the door, “and say that I will wait upon him when it is his pleasure to see me.”
“That would be now, I 'm sure,” said I, eagerly.
“Perhaps not so soon; he will have so much to say to your mother. Another time;” and, hurriedly shaking my hand, he retired.
As I slowly, step by step, mounted the stair, I could not help asking myself, was this the festive occasion I had so often pictured to myself?—was this the happy meeting I had looked forward to so longingly? As I drew near the door, I thought I heard a sound like a. heavy sob; my hand trembled when I turned the handle of the lock and entered the room.
“This is Jasper,” said my mother, coming towards me, and trying to smile through what I could see were recent tears.
The Count was seated on an easy-chair, still dressed in the pelisse he had worn on the journey, and with his travelling-cap in his hand. He struck me as a handsome and distinguished-looking man, 'but with a countenance that alike betrayed passion and intemperance. The look he turned on me as I came forward was assuredly not one of kindness or affection, nor did he extend his hand to me in sign of salutation.
“And this is Jasper!” repeated he slowly after my mother. “He is n't tall of his age, I think.”
“We have always thought him so,” said my mother, gently, “and assuredly he is strong and well grown.”