Greenwood complied; and the nobleman led him to a sofa at a short distance from the door by which they had entered.
They both seated themselves on the voluptuous cushions.
For some moments a solemn silence prevailed.
At length that almost painful stillness was broken by the soft notes of a delicious melody, which, coming from the farther end of the apartment, stole, with a species of enchanting influence, upon the ear.
Gentle and low was that sweet music when it began; but by degrees it grew louder—though still soft and ravishing in the extreme.
Then a chorus of charming female voices suddenly burst forth; and the union of that vocal and instrumental perfection produced an effect thrilling—intoxicating—joyous, beyond description.
The melody created in the mind of Greenwood an anxious desire to behold those unseen choristers whose voices were so harmonious, so delightful.
The dulcet, metallic sounds agitated the senses with feelings of pleasure, and made the heart beat with vague hopes and expectations.
For nearly twenty minutes did that delicious concert last. Love was the subject of the song,—Love, not considered as an infant boy, nor as a merciless tyrant,—but Love depicted as the personification of every thing voluptuous, blissful, and enchanting,—Love, the representative of all the joys which earth in reality possesses, or which the warmest imagination could possibly conceive,—Love apart from the refinements of sentiment, and contemplated only as the paradise of sensualities.
And never did sweeter voices warble the fervid language of passion through the medium of a more enchanting poesy!