Laura turned quickly around and caught the diabolical glance of
Barbesieur's eyes. "I—I do not believe it," murmured she.
"Did you say that you had the original letter from the Marquis?" asked Strozzi, eagerly.
"Yes, here it is; the marchioness can see for herself."
Laura took the paper and glanced hurriedly over its contents. She raised her eyes to heaven in thanksgiving. "He is not dead," said she, almost inaudibly.
"Then you have read very carelessly," returned Barbesieur. "The letter says, 'so dangerously wounded that he was transported in a dying condition to Vienna,'"
"Had he been dying, he would not have been transported to Vienna," exclaimed Laura, with a smile of returning hope. "No, no! Had Eugene been dead, the air I breathe, the clouds that I watch as they pass by yonder grated windows—my heart, whose beatings are responsive to his—every thing in nature would have revealed the terrible truth. Eugene lives—and lives to fulfil his great and glorious destiny. Pardon me, O Lord, that, for a moment, my faith was weak!"
She looked so transcendently lovely as she spoke, that Strozzi's heart sank within him. He turned his face away, and groaned.
"My charming sister is easily consoled, you perceive," said Barbesieur to Strozzi. "And now that, according to her own interpretation of the marriage ceremony, she is widowed, I hope to hear before long that you have effectually dried up her tears. Come- -let us leave this hopeful widow to herself."
"I come," replied Strozzi, "for you must take some refreshment before you go. Until the hour of dinner I take my leave, marchioness."
"Marquis," said Laura, following him to the door.