“The loud ringing of the bell, which was always rung at twilight, to assemble the pupils for study, aroused me, and I joined my companions.
CHAPTER V.
“The following day I departed, Madame Deville kissed me several times, and warmly embraced me. She seemed to feel more regret at parting from me, than I had seen her manifest upon the similar occasions of bidding adieu to Inez and Blanche; for myself, I felt sorry to leave, and yet glad to go. To spend one’s existence in an automaton-like performance of fixed rules, laid down for us by others, is surely not a life of action; and action is the object and purpose of our being, that each should bear his share of the joys, cares, and responsibilities of existence, is evidently the intent of our being sent upon earth.
“Monsieur Belmont placed me in the hackney coach, which was to take us to the post-house, whence we took the diligence, to one of the principal towns on the road to Naples; my luggage was strapped on behind; my teacher placed himself by my side and closed the carriage door; the driver cracked his whip and we started. As I heard the rumbling of the coach wheels on the rough stones of the pavement, a feeling of loneliness, of isolation, stole over me. I, a simple schoolgirl, had left the abode of years, and was about to be cast forth upon that great chaos, the world; still I hoped that the invisible hand of some angel-guardian, would guide me safely through the dark clouds of obscurity, even unto the bright sun of the most perfect day. Since that day I have travelled over half the inhabited world, but I never experienced a sadder feeling, than on the day I bade farewell to the boarding-school at Vienna.
“It was a sweet morning in the month of May. Inez had left us in the summer time, Blanche, when autumn’s yellow leaf strewed the ground; but a fresh spring day heralded my departure. The brisk trot at which we travelled soon carried us beyond the suburbs of the city, and the magnificent metropolis of the Austrian empire, its monuments, splendid churches, beautiful gardens, and glorious works of art, were left behind. My eyes dwelt upon them admiringly, as they gradually receded from my view; I was proud of the country, and place of my nativity; and in that great city I had lived for so many years, and yet was as ignorant of its gayeties, its vices and its crimes, as any poor countryman from the neighboring mountains.
“Our road lay along a fertile plain, bordered on the right by a lofty chain of mountains, on the left a small stream ran gurgling by; the gentle murmur of its waters sounded like the regular sonorous breathing of a sleeping child. Monsieur pulled out of his pocket a newspaper, and went to reading politics. It was evident that beautiful scenery had no charms for him. He left me undisturbed to my meditations, and I followed them; I looked down on the long green grass at my feet, interspersed with wild flowers, and I looked up at the blue heavens above my head, traversed here and there by fleecy white clouds, and I felt thankful to the beneficent Creator of all things, that he had placed me in so beautiful a world. I glanced across the plain at the lofty dark blue mountains, and then turned to the opposite side, where groves of tall poplars and graceful lindens waved their dark green foliage in the sunshine.
“Gradually, as we journeyed on, the scene changed; the plain was distanced, and we ascended a hill and rode through a thick forest. I listened to the mournful cooing of the doves, the chirping of the birds, and the hollow sound of the breeze, as it whistled through the trees; the snake glided through the brushwood and vanished at our approach, and the deer ran startled away, little partridges ran about on the ground, calling each other in the unintelligible language of the brute creation. I enjoyed everything I saw with that untarnished freshness of feeling, the attribute of early youth. Man becomes accustomed to anything, and everything, and a continued repetition of the same thing, even if it be beautiful, becomes tiresome. To love or appreciate a person or thing long, we must throw around it, or them, an air of mystery, of reserve, for undisputed possession sooner or later brings satiety. Poor frail human nature! why is it, destined child of dust, that thou canst only love ardently while the object of thy passion is unattained? A lover will run all risks, do anything to obtain his mistress; yet when once his own, grow weary of her in a month; the fervor of his passion will cool down to positive indifference, sometimes degenerate into neglect or personal abuse.
“Monsieur still sat coning over the news; he had journeyed that road a hundred times before, and consequently did not care for trees, nor flowers, nor green grass. Towards evening the driver drew up before the door of a small, dirty-looking post-house, situated in a deep ravine, surrounded by steep precipices; a waterfall ran bounding down the rocks, with a wild, musical sound. The situation was picturesque and grand; two women, upon their knees, on the edge of the stream, washing their clothes, chatted to each other, and their faces wore the expression of smiling content. Upon the steps of the house sat a beautiful girl, sewing some ribbonds together; on which she was placing glass beads of different colors. She smiled to herself as she did so, probably anticipating the effect this piece of rustic finery would have upon the heart of some village lover. A princess, while contemplating a tiara of diamonds, could not have felt happier than did this cottage girl with her head-dress of ribbonds. There is something charming in nature, and in rural life; it is so natural, so pure, so unalloyed by the manœuvering, the hypocrisy, the turmoil of social existence; it is the primitive state of being our first parents led, and to its peaceful shades has many a hackneyed man and woman of the world returned, as a tired child to its mother’s arms, to seek for peace and repose.
“After waiting sometime the diligence made its appearance; we got into it, ourselves the only passengers, and the carriage returned from whence it came; the postillion winded his horn as we flew rapidly away. We followed the course of the Danube; it was a dark night, the sky only illumined by the stars; I could not obtain a distinct view of this majestic river, still as we rolled along upon its beautiful banks, I thought of the lessons I had so often repeated about the invasion of the Goths and Vandals, and how they had crossed the great river on their way to Rome.