“Ah, well, then I would know how this long veil of mine will look on me, by seeing how ’twill look on thy dear head. Now stoop—stoop—stoop—madame, as though I were a queen, and you were to be dubbed a knight.”
“Nay,” said the young lord, as the lady was about to kneel.
“But I say I will,” said the bride.
“I would I could as easily assure thee lasting happiness, fair girl,” said the lady, gravely. And kneeling, her head was soon enveloped in the beautiful lace veil.
The bridegroom looked on helplessly, and seemed troubled at this act.
“Charming—charming,” cried the laughing Elvira. “Who can see your blushes now? You look like a bride yourself. Pray now, who could tell you from me?”
The young lord suddenly started, and his grave face lighted up with hope.
“Nay, wear it—wear it,” said Elvira. “I must leave you for a little, young bride and bridegroom; for I have yet to put on my diamonds. Stay here—stay here.” And she ran laughing from the room.
“Thou art saved—thou art saved!”
It was the young lord who spoke, and, as he did so, the imperilled queen for one moment hoped, but the next she was deep sunk in despair, and only breathed the air of liberty again when the colonel entered the room, and coming up to her, said: “The fairy Elvira should not hide her face beneath that envious mantle—let me raise it.”