"Those called the Knights—the Black Masks—the Invisibles. I scarcely know more than you do about them, signora, though for two months they have led me by a thread any where they pleased."
The sound of hoofs on the ground was heard; and in two minutes they were harnessed again, and another postilion, who did not belong to the royal service appeared, and exchanged a few words with the stranger. The latter gave his hand to Consuelo, who returned to the carriage with him. He sat as far from her as possible; but did not interrupt the solemn silence of the night by a single word, and only looked from time to time at his watch. It was not near day, though the sound of the quail in the briar was heard, and also the watchdog's distant bark. The night was magnificent, and the constellation of the Great Bear appeared reversed on the horizon. The sound of wheels stifled the harmonious voices of the country, and they turned their backs to the great northern stars. Consuelo saw she was going southward; and as Karl sat on the box he attempted to shake off the spectre of Mayer, which he fancied he saw floating through the alleys of the forest, at the foot of the crosses, or under the tall pines. He did not, consequently, observe the direction in which his good or bad stars led him.
[CHAPTER XXI]
Porporina, fancying that he had determined not to exchange a word with her, thought she could not do better than respect the strange vow which, like the old knight-errants, he seemed to be resolved to keep. To get rid of the sombre images and sad reflections suggested by Karl's story, she attempted to penetrate the unknown future which opened before her, and gradually sunk into a reverie full of charms. A few rare persons have the power of commanding their ideas in a state of contemplative idleness. Consuelo had often, during her three months' confinement at Spandau, had occasion to exert this faculty, which is granted less frequently to the happy in this world than to those who earn their living by toil, persecution, and danger. All must recognise this mystery as providential, without which the serenity of many unfortunate creatures would appear impossible to those who have not known misfortune.
Our fugitive was indeed in a condition strange enough to lay the foundations of many castles in the air. The mystery which surrounded her like a cloud, the fatality which led her into a fantastic world, the kind of paternal love which surrounded her with miracles, were quite sufficient to charm an imagination instinct with poetry as hers was. She recalled those words of holy writ, which in her imprisonment she had set to music:—"I shall send one of my angels to thee, and he shall bear thee in his hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. I walk in darkness, yet I walk without fear, for the Lord is with me." Thenceforth those words acquired a more distinct and divine signification. At a time when there is no faith in direct revelation, and in the sensible manifestation of the divinity, the protection and manifestations of heaven are translated by the affections, assistance, and devotion of our fellow-creatures. There is something so delicious in the abandonment of our conduct to those we love, and so to say, in feeling ourselves sustained by others. This happiness is so exquisite, that it would soon corrupt us, if we did not resist the disposition to abuse it. It is the happiness of a child, the golden dreams of whom are troubled, as it slumbers on its mother's bosom, by none of the apprehensions of human life.
These thoughts, which presented themselves like dreams to Consuelo on the occasion of her sudden escape from such a painful condition, wrapped her in such voluptuous calm, that sleep at last came to drown her sensations, in that kind of repose of body and mind which may be called pleasant and delicious annihilation. She had entirely forgotten the presence of her mute travelling companion, and awoke, finding herself near him, with her head leaning on his shoulder. At first she did not move, dreaming that she was travelling with her mother, and that the arm which sustained her was the Zingara's. When completely aroused, she was confused at her inadvertence. The arm of the stranger, however, was become a magic chain. Secretly she made vain attempts to get loose. The stranger seemed to sleep also, and had received his companion mechanically in his arms, as she sank in them overcome by fatigue and the motion of the coach. He had clasped his hands around Consuelo, as if to preserve her from falling while he slept. His sleep had not relaxed the force of his clasped hands, and it would have been necessary to have waked him to extricate herself. This Consuelo did not dare to do. She hoped he would voluntarily release her, and that she might return to her place without seeming to have remarked the delicate circumstances of their situation.
The stranger slept soundly, and Consuelo, whom the calmness of his breathing, and the immobility of his repose, had restored to confidence, went to sleep herself, being completely overcome by the exhaustion which succeeds violent agitation. When she awoke again, the head of her companion was pressed to hers, his mask was off, their faces touched, and their breathing was intermingled. She made a brisk effort to withdraw, without thinking to look at the features of the stranger, which would indeed have been difficult in the darkness. The stranger pressed Consuelo to his bosom, the heat of which was communicated to her own, and deprived her of the power and wish to remove. There was nothing violent or brutal in the embrace of this man. Chastity was neither offended nor sullied by his caresses, and Consuelo, as if a charm had been thrown around her, forgetting her prudence, and one might also say, the virginal coldness which she had never been tempted to part with, even in the arms of the fiery Anzoleto, returned the eager and enthusiastic kiss of the stranger.
As all about this mysterious being seemed strange and unusual, the involuntary transport of Consuelo seemed neither to surprise, to embolden, nor to intoxicate him. He yet pressed her closely to his bosom, and though he did so with unusual power, she did not feel the pain such an embrace usually inflicts on a delicate being. Neither was she sensible of the shame so great a forgetfulness of her habitual modesty would usually have created. No idea came to disturb the ineffable security of this moment of mutual and miraculous love. It was the first of her life. She was aware of the instinct, or rather it was revealed to her, and the charm was so complete, so divine, that it seemed impossible for it to be changed. He passed the extremity of his fingers, which were softer than the leaf of a flower, over the lids of Consuelo, and at once she sank to sleep again, as if by enchantment. On this occasion he remained awake, but apparently as calm as if the arrows of temptation never had entered his bosom. He bore Consuelo, she knew not whither, as an archangel might bear on his wings a seraph, amazed at the Godhead's radiation.
Dawn, and the freshness of morning, roused Consuelo from this kind of lethargy. She found herself alone in the carriage, and doubted if she had not dreamed that she loved. She sought to let down one of the blinds; they were, however, fastened by an external spring, the secret of which she did not know. She could receive air through them, and see flit by her, in broken and confused lines, the white and green margin of the road, but could make no observation nor discovery as to the route. There was something absolute and despotical in the protection extended over her. It was like a forcible carrying away, and she began to be afraid.