“I have no faith in our count’s return!” whispered Marianne while Natalie was singing. “It is a bad sign that no news, not a line, nor even the shortest message, had yet come from him. Something unusual, some great and uncontrollable misfortune, must have prevented his writing!”
“You do not think they have imprisoned him?” asked Carlo.
“I fear it,” sighed Marianne. “And if so, what fate then awaits our poor princess? Helpless, alone, without means! For if the count is imprisoned, he will no longer be in a condition to send money as he promised. And we now possess only a thousand scudi, with double that amount in diamonds!”
“Then we are still rich enough to keep off deprivations for a time!” said Carlo.
“But when at length these last resources are exhausted?” asked Marianne—“when we no longer have either money or diamonds—how then?”
“Oh, then,” exclaimed Carlo, with a beaming face, “then will we labor for her! That, also, will be a pleasure, Marianne!”
While the two were thus conversing, Natalie, with a happy smile and cheerful face, was still singing her hymn of joy for Paulo’s approaching return to the accompaniment of the rustling trees, the murmuring fountains, and the chirping birds in the myrtle-bush. It was a beautiful night, and as the bright full moon now advanced between the pines, illuminating Natalie’s face and form, the partially intoxicated and perfectly happy Carlo whispered: “Only look, Marianne! does she not resemble a blessed angel ready to spread her wings, and with the moonlight to mount up to the stars? Only look, seems it not as if the moonbeams tenderly embraced her for the purpose of leading an angel back to its home?”
“May she, at least, one day, with such a happy smile, take her departure for the skies!” sighed Marianne, piously folding her hands.
At this moment a shrill, cutting wail interrupted Natalie’s song. A string of her guitar had suddenly snapped asunder; frightened, almost angry, Natalie let the instrument fall to the earth, and again the strings resounded like lamentations and sighs.
“That is a bad omen,” sighed Natalie. “How, if that should be true, and not my dream?”