One evening Raphael had fallen asleep on a sofa, after creeping about on the floor till sleep overcame him. His pretty mouth, like a blooming rose-bud, was half open, showing two new teeth, and his long white robe swept along the sofa as he lay;—as I sat near him, listening to his gentle breathing, I heard a light step on the carpet, and turning, saw the count. He sat down on the sofa, at the feet of Raphael, and looking at him, said:
“How sweetly he slumbers; how innocent is the sleep of a child.”
“Yes, their unsuspicious innocence is a charming attribute which they soon lose.”
I never could raise my eyes when the count was present without encountering his fixed gaze, and I met it now as I looked up from my child. He turned his away as I did so, and turned his hat from one hand to the other with a confused air.
“Can nothing be thought of? can nothing be done, to find out something more about Monsieur de Serval?” I suddenly inquired, reminded more strongly by the presence of the count of my unhappy lord.
“Everything that the ingenuity of the government could devise, or I, or others, suggest to find him out, has been done, but in vain. He has baffled pursuit. Perhaps some day in future will find you reunited to him on some fair isle, of which you and your child will form the Venus and Cupid, your husband the Mars: then, in those days of sunshine, all recollections of unhappy hours will be forgotten: that will be another sphere of existence.”
“It is very kind of you to re-assure me, but I am convinced that will never be.”
“It is possible, and whatever is possible is probable; as for me,” he continued, “I wonder what fate has in store for me; a life of loneliness I suppose, as it always has been, travelling, wandering alone.”
“Oh, say not so,” I cried, and anxious to soothe, I laid my hand on his; “not if you were near me, should you be lonely; friend to me and my husband, I would always cheer you.”
“You,” he exclaimed, catching my hand; “oh, heaven itself would seem to dawn upon me, could I always be near you as I am now.” Then, as if amazed at the fervor with which he had spoken, he dropped my hand, and confusedly looked down. An agitated silence followed: this singular avowal had been so abrupt, it startled me into a tumult of thoughts I had not dreamed of for a long time past: my cheeks blushed carnation hues as I looked away; my confusion, however, did not last long, for the count, as if struggling against some feeling he wished to hide, rose abruptly, and ejaculated, as if with an effort,