“Who is it then?” she hastily interposed.
“It is he! He begs it of you!”
Natalie, springing up, hurried into the house.
“I will never again go into the garden in the evening!” said she. “It is his command! Thank God, there is yet something in which I can obey, and he commands it of me! But why these lights?” asked she, almost blinded by the brilliancy of the girandoles and chandeliers, the mirrors, and jewels.
“The count has so commanded!” said Ribas. “He loves a bright light! But, princess, cannot you remain in this boudoir for one evening? Only see how beautiful it is, how enticingly cool, with these fountains that refresh the air and diffuse fragrance! How delightfully still and snug it is! Reposing upon these velvet cushions, you can look through the whole suite of rooms, which in fact, tonight, flash and sparkle like the heavens, and yet in this boudoir there is a sweet twilight, refreshing to eye and heart!”
“No, no,” said she, with a charming smile. “I also like brightness and light! It is too dusky here!”
“Nevertheless, remain here!”
“And why?”
“He wishes it!” said Ribas mysteriously.
“He wishes it?” cried Natalie, turning pale, and trembling. Then, suddenly, a purple flush spread over her brow, and, reeling, she was obliged to hold by a chair to prevent falling. “Ah,” she stammered, “can it be possible? Can this happiness be intended? Is it true, what I read in your eyes? Is it? Comes he here?”