“Do come, my lady; do come,” said Pasiphae, urgently, and joyfully; “indeed you won’t regret it; the person has something particular to say.”
Thus urged, and wondering what it could be, I rose, leaving my book on the seat, and taking Raphael by the hand, followed by the dog, went into the house. The rooms were all on the ground floor; a broad hall ran through the house, and opening off it were four rooms; two were fitted up as salons, the other two constituted my bed-room and dining-room. They were furnished alike with red velvet drapery, Turkey carpets, and mirrors. Pasiphae regularly each day placed fresh flowers in the Chinese vases on the marble consoles, and their delightful perfume scented the rooms with oriental fragrance.
I entered the room holding Raphael by the hand, and coming from the clear light of the garden into the crimson light of the salon, I could scarcely discern objects.
A tall figure stood with its back towards me, facing the window. As I stepped forward on the carpet, it turned, and I beheld Count Calabrella. Animated with a supernatural joy, I sprang toward him.
“It is you!” I cried; “oh, is it you? You have come! you have come!”
“Yes, beloved one,” answered he, as he clasped me in his arms. “At last we are united: now the unstable dreams which have buoyed me up through this long separation, and my lonely wanderings are realized; now we meet, not to feel again the same sorrow we mutually experienced at our last parting.”
“Oh, let me die now!” I answered, as I laid my head on his breast, “for now I am happy, and life cannot have many repetitions of such emotions for me.”
“Instead of dying, let us picture long years of happiness, and be determined they should be verified,” replied my Alfieri, laughingly.