She threw aside her ball dress, and in her light dressing-gown contemplated her reflection in the large mirror. She felt so lighthearted, so free--and was she not beautiful, youthfully beautiful? A heavy destiny had passed over her, but in its flight it only slightly touches the favourites of the gods. No creases, no wrinkles, she needed no paint-pot to conceal them, no weight of cares had been able to bow her tall form, and the consciousness of her own beauty thrilled her with delight.
Then she hastened to the cupboard, which was placed in a panel of the wall, opened it with a carefully secured key, and took out the jewel box which Blanden had given to her. First she let the splendid stones glisten in the lamp light, then flash in the moon's radiance, while she revelled in the sparkling lights and the prismatic rays which played to and fro.
Then she stepped before the large mirror, put the diadem of brilliants upon her curls, decked herself with the pearl necklace, with the bracelets, glistening with rubies and emeralds. She thought herself magnificent as a queen; thus, in her dazzling splendour, ornamented with the prince's crown, might not everything be permitted to her? Need a ruler fear his conscience, that sentinel of the garrison? Did she, in her power and beauty, not stand far above it?
They were proud dreams in which she indulged--blissful self-forgetfulness, the ruinous intoxication of dark spirits of the earth, which guard the treasures of the deep, and scatter that shining dust into the eyes of mankind that it may perceive nothing but the sparkling brilliance of mammon and soulless splendour. She walked up and down before the mirror, bent her head to see how the coronet of brilliants became her dark locks, turned to the right and to the left; but then the spirit of the stage came upon her, a vain spirit at first, and she repeated scenes from operas, raising her arms, now wringing her hands, then extending them as if cursing, all the time admiring the shining lights of her bracelets as they played about those beautifully rounded forms.
Then she stood again as still as sculptured marble and gazed at herself as though she were looking at a statue, standing in a niche of a Pantheon. Then, suddenly--it was no dream--the mirror began to move; it was pushed on one side by invisible hands: she commenced to tremble, to rub her eyes--her own reflection disappeared with the mirror like a ghost into the surface of the wall--and, instead, a space black as an abyss yawned before her--and a draped figure sprang into the room and threw off its cloak.
It was Baluzzi!
She started back with a loud cry.
"Traitoress!" cried he, "now you are worthy of me!"
Giulia staggered back a few paces, half unconscious, with one hand resting upon the back of the roccoco chair, she held the other tremblingly towards the intrusive ghost.
"Back, back!" she cried with a failing voice, that was almost stifled into a convulsive whisper.