It was at this juncture of her preparations, that Barbesieur broke in upon her happy solitude, with his terrible tidings of Eugene's misfortune. She was ready to risk her life to meet him, and perchance he was mortally wounded, and she might never see him more! A woman less resolute might have faltered in her purpose; but to Laura the news of her lover's danger had imparted new strength, and she would liberate herself that very night, or perish in the attempt.
She had no money; the marquis had considered it prudent to relieve her of the custody of her wealth, and to put it out of her power to bribe his spies. But she had jewels, and such of these as could be concealed about her person she took.
During the day she had played upon her harp, and improvised melodies so ravishing, that Strozzi had been on his knees outside, listening and weeping by turns. Finally, when she had ceased singing, he knocked, and besought her to let him look for one moment upon her face, to let him imprint one kiss upon her hand.
Laura thought it prudent to comply, so she opened the door and allowed him, for the first time in his life, to hold her hand and press it to his lips, and to thank her for the heavenly music. Not to overdo the matter, she allowed him to remain but a few moments; and the marquis retired, perfectly convinced that all was right, and that he had a hope of winning that obdurate heart at last.
Night was at hand! The skies were overclouded, with here and there a star struggling through the darkness. Gradually the castle grew silent, the closing of doors and drawing of bolts ceased at last, and all was still.
All, except those two duennas; and Laura saw that if she ever was to lull them to bed, she must call them in to undress her. So opening the door, she beckoned to Carlotta, who, to her great joy, appeared in a dressing-gown. Finally, the comedy being over, and the duennas completely hoodwinked, Laura locked her doors a second time, and, retreating to her bedroom, raised the carpet and drew forth her black disguise. She tore off her white night-gown, clasped a pearl necklace around her neck, and several diamond bracelets on her arms, and then arrayed herself in the costume of the chimney-sweeper. She took up her rope, and, fastening a small iron casket to the end, slung it over her shoulder, and began her dark, perilous ascent. Away! away! Over the castle-roof to liberty and love!—
With her delicate little hands she seized a hook that projected from the chimney. She reached a second and supported her foot on the first; a third, a fourth; and now the opening grew narrow and more narrow, and she struggled along through the black, suffocating hole, until her breath had almost failed her, and she had nigh been choked to death! Poor girl! She could not reach her eyes to clear them of the soot that was blinding and maddening her with pain, and she began to tremble lest she should lose her senses. But she prayed to God to deliver her, and made one supreme effort to free herself. She felt the air from above; the hole began to widen, and she could lay her head backward and breathe. She raised her smarting eyes and saw a light—a star! A greeting from heaven!
But she felt that at such a moment she must not indulge in sensibility. The extremity in which she found herself required resolution, daring, and coolness. She called up all her courage, and struggled on. At last—at last, her hands rested on the top of the chimney: she drew herself upward, and with one bound sprang upon the roof.
For a moment or two she leaned her weary arms upon the edge of the chimney; then, placing her ear at the opening, she listened to hear if there was any stir below. No—all was silent: not a sound broke the profound stillness of the night, She must be going then—over the castle-roof to liberty and love!
She groped, with hands outstretched, for some support, but found nothing. Nevertheless she must tread the dark and mysterious way that was to lead her to freedom, and she made a few steps forward. Suddenly she grew faint and dizzy, and a shudder ran through her limbs; she tried to rally her strength and put out her foot. It encountered some obstacle which sent her reeling backward; and, murmuring a prayer to Heaven, she swooned and fell. When she recovered her senses, she was lying, she knew not where, perhaps she had fallen from the battlements to the ground, there to be devoured by the savage bloodhounds, or to become again and forever the prisoner of the abhorred marquis. But she felt no pain and, stretching out her hand to make an effort to rise, she perceived that she was on a smooth, hard surface, and lay against the battlements, or rather against a heavy stone balustrade that surrounded the castle-roof. With this balustrade to grasp, she could arrive at the chimney she was seeking; all she had to do, was to use it as a guide to the remote wing she was trying to reach. If there had been but a few friendly stars to smile upon her perilous pilgrimage! But the night was fearfully dark; so dark that she had no reliance beyond her sense of touch. This alone admonished her of her approach to the angle where she was to turn into the wing. Now and then she paused and looked back to see if there was light or sign of life along that broad castle-front. But all was safe, and she went slowly on. She felt hopeful now, and strengthened, for the wing was quite remote from the inhabited parts of the castle; its windows opened low; and a pathway, now overgrown with weeds, led from one of these windows to a gate which, as the marquis had never dreamed of danger in that quarter, was always left unlocked for the accommodation of the foresters and wood-cutters. Oh, that she were but there! On! on! she must hasten, or she might be discovered! She was about to press forward, when, to her unspeakable horror, she perceived that her hand rested no longer on the balustrade. She had passed the chimney and stood upon the unprotected battlements! Shuddering, she drew back—her feet almost giving way under her trembling limbs; but in the might and vigor of her strong, firm will, she drew herself up and retreated. The roof was not steep—it had merely descent enough to carry off the rain; but the tiles were so smooth that more than once she slipped back, and she was becoming timorous and weak. While she was resting for a moment from her fatigue, however, she saw something looming up above the roof the sight whereof restored her courage and her strength. It was the long-sought chimney.