Saying this, the Emperor mounted the dais, and in a few brief sentences made congratulatory reference to the peaceable adjustment, thus dismissing the assemblage.
CHAPTER XLII. TEKLA REPLENISHES HER WARDROBE.
The Countess Tekla leaned long over the parapet of Castle Thuron, gazing sadly into the night. The brilliant moonlight seemed a mockery of former happiness, now that she stood bathed in it alone. Into the darkness of the forest, into the uncertainty of the future, her lover had gone, confident that his single arm would bring rescue to the besieged; and the girl, melancholy as she was at the parting, felt as assured of his success as if it were already accomplished. He had been compelled to steal away in the shadow of the trees, as cautiously and secretly as if he were on a mission of death, but she was sure he would return openly and triumphantly as a champion of life. Her dreamy eyes lost sight of the dark wood, and she saw in imagination her hero at the head of his men break through the iron cordon which had so long encompassed the castle, bringing, with ringing cheers, succour to the oppressed. At last, with dimmed eyes and a deep sigh, the girl turned and beheld the ghost-like vision of Hilda standing there, silently weeping.
"Oh, Hilda, how you startled me. Why are you sorrowing?"
"So many terrible things have happened to-night, my Lady, that I am filled with fear. I weep because I have lost my lover," said Hilda, simply.
"Yes, Hilda, the cruel wood has hidden him, but he will soon return, so have no fears. And, Hilda, listen. We are two women alone together, and I think women are alike whatever their station; lady or serf, what can they do but weep when their lovers leave them? My own eyes are wet, Hilda, because my lover went with yours!"
"The Lord Rodolph, my Lady?" exclaimed Hilda, her curiosity and match-making instinct mastering her emotion.
"The Lord Rodolph, Hilda."