He had been averse to coming with Bois-Doré, knowing that he would be made to dine in the servants' quarters and would not see Lauriane before noon.
Lauriane, as well as her father, was acquainted with the tragic story of Bruno's disciple, and, following Bois-Doré's example, they ostentatiously treated him at La Motte-Seuilly as a musician simply, fearing to compromise him, although they really entertained for him the high esteem that he deserved.
Lucilio was the only one who had not thought of making a toilet for the occasion. He had no hope of attracting attention; indeed, he had no desire to draw any eye upon himself, knowing that the mysterious intercourse of minds was the most to which he could aspire.
So he approached the yew without useless timidity or pretended caution; and, relying upon the beauty and sincerity of what he had to say in music, he began to play, to the great displeasure and vexation of D'Alvimar.
Lauriane, too, was annoyed for a moment by the interruption, but she reproached herself when she read on the bagpiper's beautiful face an ingenuous purpose to gratify her.
"I do not know why it is," she thought, "that there seems to be on that face a sort of radiance of genuine affection and of a healthy conscience, which I do not find on the other's face."
And she glanced once more at D'Alvimar, now thoroughly irritated, morose and overbearing, and felt something like a shiver of fear—perhaps of him, perhaps of herself.
Again, whether because she was very sensitive to music, or because her emotions were keyed up to a high pitch, she fancied that she could hear in her brain the words of the beautiful airs Lucilio was playing to her, and those imaginary words were:
"See the bright sun shining in the clear sky, and the swift streams receiving its rays on their changing surfaces!
"See the beautiful trees bent in black arches against the pale golden background of the meadows, and the meadows themselves, as cheery and bright as in the springtime, under the embroidery of the pink flowers of autumn; and the graceful swan, that seems to paddle rhythmically at your feet; and the migratory birds flying across yonder multicolored clouds.