"Why, how now, man of mysteries?" cried D'Aubin. "The hour of her departure! Does she not sleep in the castle to-night?"
"Never, sir! never!" replied the page. "Since three days after you began to mend, she has never passed one night within these walls. But I have not time to explain more mysteries, and only came to see you well, and perhaps, if I had a moment, to give you some counsel that were not ungrateful to your ear."
"Oh, you have time, plenty of time!" cried D'Aubin. "Lo, there she sits, and she is running over the strings of her lute in another air, though we cannot hear it here; but we can see when she rises; beautiful creature! One could gaze on her for ever! What is it you would say?"
"I would ask," replied the page, "if his Highness of Mayenne ever showed you some information he received concerning one whom you thought no less fair than the fair thing before you?"
"Yes, yes, he showed it to me!" answered D'Aubin. "But know you, Bartholo, that since we met, my mind has undergone a revolution. Like you, my little friend, I have changed my service also; and, as you said, am now with my first mistress, the only one who ever had a real right to call me servant."
The cheek of the dwarf turned pale; and he replied, "I thought, indeed, that you might be her servant, as we use that word in Italy: her servant par amours; and yet might like to wed the other too, if it were but to set your foot for ever upon all the gay jests and ribald laughter that are going on in the capital and the camp at your expense. But if you are set on marrying the fair Princess, Heaven forbid that I should stay you from such a righteous purpose!"
D'Aubin paused in thought for several moments, while the dwarf alternately glanced his eye to the changing countenance of the Count, and to the garden in which Beatrice still sat. "You speak strange words, Bartholo!" said D'Aubin at length: "I, with all the world, have deemed her as pure as the falling snow, ere it touches earth."
"And so she is," cried the dwarf, eagerly; "and so she is, I do believe. But yet, Monsieur d'Aubin, she loves--loves with that passion which makes such steps as we speak of easy. Besides, we in Italy are accustomed to look upon the marriage tie as a form much less binding than that which love twines for itself--a mere form indeed; and she, who worships the spirit of constancy, abhors all idle forms. But I speak too boldly, noble sir; and yet I seek to serve you. I have heard that Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, too, has betaken himself to your estates of Aubin, and--but I must fly!--see, she is rising!"
"Stay, stay a moment!" cried the Count; "she is not yet prepared to go forth, and I have much to ask you. Tell me, where is the Lady of Menancourt, and how may I best find her?"
"I dare not stay, sir!" replied the dwarf. "As soon as she enters, she will ask for me; but I will find another opportunity soon, of telling you more. In the mean time, fear not, sir, to press your advantage; for you know not passion's force with those upon whose birth a brighter sun has shone. Remember, I never gave you false information or wrong advice."