Consuelo did not utter her wish. She had not thought of the stranger since she had shaken off her lethargy. This burning wish awoke in her, and made her reflect on the menacing sentences inscribed on all the walls and furniture of the magic palace, and even on the apparel in which she was so strangely decked.
[CHAPTER XXIV]
More than anything else, Consuelo was anxious for, and in need of, liberty, after having passed so many days in slavery. She was then delighted at being able to wander amid a vast space, which the efforts of art and the effect of long avenues made appear yet vaster. After walking about two hours, she felt herself becoming sad by the solitude and silence which reigned in these beautiful spots. She had already gone several times around it, without seeing even a human foot-print on the fine and well-raked sand. Lofty walls, masked by immense vegetation, prevented her from passing into unknown paths. She already had become acquainted with those she had passed. In some places the wall was interrupted by large fosses, filled with water, which allowed the eyes to lose themselves in extensive lawns, which were bounded by wooded mountains, or by the entrance into mysterious and charming alleys, ending in thick glades. From her window, Consuelo saw all nature open to her, but when she came down-stairs, she found herself shut in on every side, and all the inside luxury could not extinguish the sensations of again feeling herself a prisoner. She looked around for the enchanted palace in which she had awaked. The house was a small one, in the Italian style, luxuriantly furnished and elegantly decorated. Its site was a pointed rock, picturesque as possible, but which was a natural enclosure to all the garden, and was as impenetrable an obstacle to a prospect as the high walks and heavy glacis of Spandau.
"My fortress," said Consuelo, "is beautiful, but it is evident that I am not on that account less the prisoner."
She was about to rest herself on the terrace of the house, which was adorned with flowers, and surmounted by a fountain. It was a delicious place, and as it commanded only a view of the interior of the garden, a few eminences in the park, and high mountains, the cliffs of which towered above the trees, the prospect was beautiful and enlivening. Consuelo, instinctively terrified at the care taken to establish her, perhaps for a long time, in her new prison, would have given all the catalpas and flowers, all the garden beds, for some quiet country nook, with a modest cot, rough roads, and a district amid which she was free to wander, and which she could explore at will. Between her residence and the lofty mountains in the distance, there were no intermediate plains to explore. Nothing met her eye but the indistinct dentillated horizon, already lost in the mist of the setting sun. The nightingales sang admirably, but not a human voice announced the presence of a single habitant. Consuelo became aware that her house, at the verge of a large park, or perhaps unexplored forest, was but a dependence of some vast manor. What she now saw of the park inspired her with no wish to extend her acquaintance with it. She saw nothing but flocks of sheep and goats feeding on the flanks of the hills, with as much security as if the approach of a mortal had been unknown to them. At last the evening breeze agitated the poplar-wood which enclosed one of the sides of the garden, and Consuelo saw, by the last light of day, the white towers and sharp roofs of a large castle, half-hidden behind a hill, at perhaps the distance of a quarter of a league. Notwithstanding her wish to think no more of the chevalier, Consuelo persuaded herself that he must be there, and her eyes were anxiously fixed on the imaginary castle perhaps, which it seemed she was prohibited to approach, and which the veil of twilight gradually hid.
When night had come, Consuelo saw the reflection of lights from the lower story of her house pass beneath the neighboring shrubbery, and she hastily descended, with the expectation of seeing some human, face around her dwelling. She had not this pleasure. The servant she found busy in lighting the lamps and fixing the table, was like the doctor, clothed in the uniform of the Invisibles. He was an old servant, in a coarse white wig, resembling wool, and clad in a full suit of tomato-colored material.
"I humbly beg your pardon, madame," said he, with a broken voice, "for appearing before you thus; but such are my orders and the necessity of them are not matter of thought for me. I am subject to your commands, madame, and my masters'. I am steward of this pavilion, director of the garden, and maitre d'hôtel. They told me that madame, having travelled a great deal, was used to wait on herself, and would not require the services of a female. It would be difficult, madame, to procure one, as I have none, and all those at the castle are forbidden to come hither. A servant woman will arrive shortly to assist me, and a gardener's lad, from time to time, will water the flowers and keep the walks in order. About this I have a very humble observation to make. This is, that any other servant than myself, with whom madame is suspected of having spoken, or have made any sign, will at once be dismissed—a great misfortune to them, for the service is good, and obedience is well rewarded. Madame, I am sure, is too generous and too just to tempt these poor people."
"Rest assured, Matteus," said Consuelo, "I will never be rich enough to reward them, and I am not the person to lead any one to neglect their duty."
"Besides," said Matteus, as if he were talking to himself, "I will never lose sight of them."