The latter was evidently willing enough to chat with me, but it soon became apparent that she had received her orders from Maria, and that she entertained too wholesome a dread of that individual lightly to disobey her. Under these circumstances the time dragged on wearily enough, so that when on the fourth day I received permission to rise from my bed and change my room for an hour or two, I regarded the inflexible Maria with feelings of gratitude almost akin to love.
The experience of a sick-bed is unfortunately so little a rarity that most of my readers will be able to realise for themselves the delight with which, after a refreshing toilet, and clad in the easiest as well as the most gorgeous of dressing-gowns, I passed out through the door of the sick-room. The sprightly Angela was my guide, and also to a great extent my support, as we passed down a short corridor and turned into a small but elegantly furnished room single glance round which was sufficient to assure me that I was in the favoured abode of beauty. A table littered with a variety of those flimsy trifles which ladies are wont to dignify with the name of “work” occupied the centre of the room, a harp stood in one corner and a guitar in another, an easel supporting an unfinished sketch in water-colours stood by one of the two windows which lighted the room, and a small bookcase filled with elegantly-bound books occupied a niche in one of the walls. A tiny riding-gauntlet of embroidered leather trimmed with lace, and a gold-mounted riding-switch lay upon a most inviting-looking couch, while an open book, placed face downwards, occupied a low-seated reclining chair, which faced the other window; some small but choice water-colours graced the walls, and against that which faced the windows stood a small chamber organ. In addition to these evidences of taste and luxury there were a few small but exquisite statuettes supported on wall brackets; delicate alabaster vases of choice and sweetly-scented flowers, and a cage of gaily plumaged birds.
“There!” said my guide, as she deposited me in the most comfortable chair in the room, “is that to your liking, signor?”
“Perfectly,” I replied. “But see here, Angela, have you not made some mistake? Was it understood that I was to occupy this room? If I may hazard a guess, I should say it is your mistress’s own especial apartment, the one to which she retreats when she desires strict privacy.”
“You are quite right, signor, it is my lady’s boudoir, but the count’s instructions were that you were to be taken to the most comfortable room in the chateau; and though there are many larger and more grand, I know of none where you would be quite so comfortable as in this.”
“I have no doubt you are perfectly right, little one,” said I; “but I greatly fear that in taking possession of this apartment I shall be intruding—”
“It is very unkind of you to think any such thing, signor; no one who has suffered as you have in the cause of my countrymen could ever be deemed an intruder in any of the apartments of the Chateau Paoli,” said a clear, silvery voice behind me. I turned and saw that the owner of the apartment had just entered at the open door in time to hear my remark.
The beautiful girl looked more lovely than ever, I thought, as she somewhat shyly congratulated me on the progress I had made toward recovery.
She playfully scolded the unabashed Angela for not putting the room in somewhat better order before introducing me to it, apologised for the state of confusion which it was in, and finally asked me if she could do anything to add to my comfort. With all the boldness of a British midshipman, I at once replied that my comfort and happiness would be complete if she would but condescend to favour me with as much of her society as possible.
The dear girl blushed, laughed, called me a bold boy, and then, at my earnest request, placed herself in a chair near me, and, after a slight pause of embarrassment, commenced a conversation, the theme of which was the struggle upon which the Corsicans had just entered.