'I am indeed a most unhappy girl; yet less so than if fate had united me to Pappenheim.'
'But this boy will be a man in time to come.'
'Ere that comes to pass I shall be—'
'Where?' 'In my grave, beside my mother.'
Her voice stirred all my old love within me, and her grief became painfully sympathetic. I took her soft velvet hands in mine. She allowed me to retain them, and, fortunately, where we stood no eye could overlook us. I was about to yield to the intoxication of the moment, and press her to my breast, when a step rang on the gravel, and the little Duke came running back in high glee to announce that his 'ship was afloat, and that we could see her by simply looking over the parapet.'
'Ah! M. le Chatelain,' said he, joyously, 'I see you are very fond of talking to Madame la Duchesse. So am I, for since I lost my mother, no lady has been so kind to me as dear Louise. I am her husband, to be sure, but you see, monsieur, that I am still a very little boy. Do you love my wife? I am sure that I do; but she weeps often, and that makes me sad. I wish monsieur could cure her of weeping. She kisses me at night, when the master of the household puts me to bed in yonder lonely turret; but I always steal to her room in the morning, though I am sure to find her weeping.'
'You perceive, Arthur, that even this child observes my misery.'
I pressed her hands, and felt almost stifled by her emotions and my own.
'See, madame! see, M. le Chatelain, how bravely my ship crosses the lake!' exclaimed the little Duke, while clapping his hands in boyish glee he left us, and rushed again to the postern gate, which opened close to the water.
'Leave me now, Arthur; what more could you eay to me now, now when—all is over?'