Thus thought Gabrielle.
But half an hour, she calculated, was wanting of the time when Bernhard would return; and she was preparing to secure her door in the manner described, when the sound of steps in the passage arrested her; the door was hastily opened, and her agitated heart almost ceased to beat when she beheld the Count Merodé!
CHAPTER XXXII.
CAN SHE ESCAPE NOW?
Ulrick entered, and, by the manner in which he closed the door and crossed the room, Gabrielle could perceive with terror (though there was no other light than those afforded by the set sun and rising moon), that he was quite intoxicated. Bad as he was, he had hitherto treated her—all things considered—with remarkable respect; and, never until this important night, had fatally dared to conceive the idea of a visit at such an hour.
Gabrielle had always thought, that, as love could not exist without a returned affection, the flame in Merodé's heart would soon expire; but the pretty casuist did not know that it was not the love of a pure heart which animated the count. Had it been so, she had long since been free.
The count wore a magnificent suit of dark blue velvet, adorned by sparkling diamond buttons and seed pearls. On his head was a montero cap with a tall feather, the quill of which was studded with diamonds. His shoulder-belt and boots were of spotless white leather, and his broad collar was of the richest lace; but cap and feather, belt and doublet, were all awry, the latter being half buttoned in the wrong holes, while his plume hung down his back.
The count was reeling; and, in the twilight, Gabrielle could perceive that his face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot, and inflamed by passion and excitement. He closed the door of the room, and, to her inexpressible alarm—locked it! He then, with a maudlin expression of admiration on his face, and with outspread arms, approached her, but she eluded him, and he sank into a chair; his cap fell off, and after several ineffectual attempts to recover it, he said, with many pauses—
"My darling must not be alarmed if I come thus to visit her at an hour so untimeous; 'tis for a moment—only for a moment—'pon my soul it is—bah! you are not angry with me, are you?"
"Will your excellency never weary of persecuting me?"