While deceiving me as to her name and rank, she had doubted my honour and trifled with my love: a bitter conviction and a humiliating one.
Then other memories came, and I could scarcely doubt that I had won an interest in her heart when I rehearsed over and over again our conversations, all of which were graven in my mind, especially that which took place in the forest near St. Michel. When I dwelt on her accents, and the expression of her blue eyes and softly-feminine face, when she spoke to me then, and on similar occasions, could I doubt that she loved me?
Yes, I did doubt now, and in the anguish of that doubt I could have wept.
I recalled the joy she had expressed on learning that Duke Charles (but Duke Charles was her father) and Count Pappenheim were at Nanci; I remembered, too, how merrily she seemed to be conversing with the Count, as their brilliant pageant passed through the public square. These were doubtless 'trifles light as air,' yet they were heavy as cannon-shot to me.
'It is enough!' I exclaimed, with growing anger; 'I have been befooled; this girl never loved me; and if she did, what would her love avail me now?'
At that moment the rattle of kettle-drums, and sound of trumpets and trampling of horses, announced the return of the Duke, whose train rode into the echoing quadrangle. I knew that Nicola was there; but instead of looking from the windows of the corridor, I placed my hands upon my ears, and strove to shut out the sounds of triumph that tortured me.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHARLES IV.
M. Schreckhorn, an officer of the Swiss guard, was now ushered into my chamber, and with much formality, and more bad French, announced that the Duke required my presence in the hall of the palace, so early as might be convenient for me. This announcement was, of course, a command to be obeyed. Duke Charles, the father of Nicola—I mean of Marie Louise, for so I must in future name her—was about to question me. How my heart beat as I started from my chair!
'I am ready,' said I.