"Albert! is it you?" said Consuelo. "You alone I look for."
A stifled exclamation of surprise from the person to whom she spoke betrayed some indescribable emotion of joy or grief. He appeared to wish to get away; but Consuelo fancied she recognised Albert's voice, and rushing forward caught him by the cloak, which, parting at his shoulder, exhibited on the bosom of the stranger a silver cross. Consuelo knew it but too well: it was that of her mother—the same she had given to the Chevalier during her journey with him, as a pledge of gratitude and sympathy.
"Leverani!" said she; "you again! Since it is you, adieu! Why do you disobey me?"
He threw himself at her feet, folded her in his arms, and embraced her so ardently, yet respectfully, that Consuelo could not resist.
"If you love me, and would have me love you, leave me," said she. "I will see and hear you before the Invisibles. Your mask terrifies me, and your silence freezes my heart!"
Leverani placed his hand on his mask. He was about to tear it away and to speak. Consuelo, like the curious Psyche, had not courage to turn away her eyes.
All at once, however, the black veil of the messengers of the secret tribunal fell over her brow. The hand of the unknown which had seized hers was silently detached.
Consuelo felt herself led away rapidly, but without violence or apparent anger. She was lifted from the ground, and then felt the spring of the planks of a boat beneath her feet. She floated down a stream a long time without any one speaking to her, and when restored to light found herself in the subterranean cave where she had before appeared at the bar of the Invisibles.