She was of about medium height, and her exquisite figure was already assuming the rounded graces of budding womanhood. Her skin was a clear pale olive with just the faintest and most delicate tinge of colour in the velvety cheek; her face was a perfect oval, and her small exquisitely poised head was covered with a wealth of soft, silky, chestnut hair, so dark as to appear black in the shade, but when a ray of light fell upon it, the rippling ringlets revealed the full beauty of their deep rich colour. The eyebrows and long drooping lashes were of the same colour as her hair, and her eyes—well, they were deep hazel; but it was impossible to ascertain this until after repeated observations—they glowed and sparkled to such a bewildering extent. Add to this a mouth “shaped like Cupid’s bow” with full rich scarlet lips, just parted sufficiently to permit a glimpse of the small regular pearly teeth within, a small round deeply-dimpled chin, an ivory-white neck and shoulders, upon which the delicate head was set with fairy-like grace, and you have as accurate a portrait of this dainty beauty as it is within my poor power to paint.
She approached the side of the bed, and, looking inquiringly in my face for a moment, said in excellent English,—
“I congratulate you, sir, on your recovery from that terrible fever. I am glad—oh! so very much, and so will be the count, my father, when he returns. He has been obliged to go away on important business, and will not perhaps be back for a day or two. But you are in excellent hands; old Maria, my nurse, is a skilful leech, and Angela here and I have been able to watch beside you, if we could do nothing more. Now, tell me, are you hungry? You should be, for you have taken nothing except Maria’s horrid medicine for two whole days, and how long before that I know not. Now, however, nurse has something more palatable for you; she said you would awake soon and be better, and she has made you some excellent broth. Shall she bring it up?”
“By all means,” I replied. “I am so weak with hunger, or something, that I seem scarcely able to speak. But before we do anything else, allow me to ask where I am, and to whom I am indebted for so much kindness. The last thing I remember was that I was in camp with—”
“Bell’ Demonio,” she interrupted. “Yes, she brought you to us two days ago. You were then very ill indeed, and Bell’ thought you ought to have better nursing than she could give you. It is all quite right; you are in the Chateau Paoli belonging to my father, Count Lorenzo di Paoli; I am his only daughter Francesca, and this is my foster-sister Angela. Now you must talk no more for the present, but take the broth like a good boy which I shall bring you.”
So saying, she tripped away out of the room, returning again in about ten minutes, accompanied by an ancient and inexpressibly ugly female, who, I was duly informed, was the before-mentioned Maria.
This antique dame felt my pulse, laid her hand upon my brow, put a few questions to me through the medium of her young mistress, and finally pronounced that I was very much better, that the fever had left me, and that all I should be likely henceforth to require would be careful nursing and judicious nourishment. A sample of the latter, she intimated, would be found in the substantial basin of broth which was now placed before me, and which I was to be sure and consume to the last drop.
I had not much difficulty in effecting a satisfactory disposal of the meal, and when I had finished, my wounded arm was carefully dressed afresh, and, to finish off with, I enjoyed as copious an ablution in deliciously cold water as circumstances would permit; after which I was left to myself with imperative orders to go to sleep again as soon as possible. I passed a most comfortable night, sleeping pretty soundly until broad daylight, when I awoke to find myself very much better in every respect, and, not to weary my readers, I may say in a word that from that time my improvement in health was both rapid and regular.
While partaking of a light breakfast on the morning following my return to consciousness, my lovely young hostess informed me joyously that her father had unexpectedly returned very late on the previous night, and that he proposed paying me an early visit, if I felt strong enough to see him.
I gladly assented to this proposal, for it suddenly flashed across my mind that though by a series of accidents I had almost without an effort of my own reached the place of my destination, my mission was still unaccomplished; my bag, containing the all-important despatches, being liable to discovery by the first visitor to the old hut, if indeed it had not already been discovered; and the only chance which now remained of its recovery was to describe as well as I could to the count, the place of its concealment, and request him to despatch a trusty messenger forthwith in quest of it.