‘It is difficult to remember we are in the North,’ said Walstein to Madame Schulembourg, ‘amid these colonnades and orange trees.’
‘It is thus that I console myself for beautiful Italy,’ replied the lady, ‘and, indeed, to-day the sun favours the design.’
‘You have resided long in Italy?’ inquired Walstein.
‘I was born at Milan,’ replied Madame de Schulembourg, ‘my father commanded a Hungarian regiment in garrison.’
‘I thought that I did not recognise an Italian physiognomy,’ said Walstein, looking somewhat earnestly at the lady.
‘Yet I have a dash of the Lombard blood in me, I assure you,’ replied Madame de Schulembourg, smiling; ‘is it not so, Mr. Revel?’
The Englishman advanced and praised the beauty of the lady’s mother, whom he well knew. Then he asked Walstein when he was at Milan; then they exchanged more words respecting Milanese society; and while they were conversing, the Doctor entered, followed by a servant: ‘I must compensate for keeping you from dinner,’ said their host, ‘by having the pleasure of announcing that it is prepared.’
He welcomed Walstein with warmth. Mr. Revel led Madame to the dining-room. The table was round, and Walstein seated himself at her side.
The repast was light and elegant, unusual characteristics of a German dinner. Madame de Schulembourg conversed with infinite gaiety, but with an ease that showed that to charm was with her no effort. The Englishman was an excellent specimen of his nation, polished and intelligent, without that haughty and graceless reserve which is so painful to a finished man of the world. The host was himself ever animated and cheerful, but calm and clear—and often addressed himself to the artist, who was silent, and, like students in general, constrained. Walstein himself, indeed, was not very talkative, but his manner indicated that he was interested, and when he made an observation it was uttered with facility, and arrested attention by its justness or its novelty. It was an agreeable party.
They had discussed several light topics. At length they diverged to the supernatural. Mr. Revel, as is customary with Englishmen, who are very sceptical, affected for the moment a belief in spirits. With the rest of the society, however, it was no light theme. Madame de Schulembourg avowed her profound credulity. The artist was a decided votary. Schulembourg philosophically accounted for many appearances, but he was a magnetiser, and his explanations were more marvellous than the portents.