(Continued from page 123.)
“Gentlemen,” said he, to the astonished Bacchanals, “my brother’s head is not very strong to-day: it is perhaps in consequence of his wound; let us not therefore either speak to or drink any more with him; for I am afraid of his health, and indeed you would oblige me exceedingly if you would assist me to carry him to his bed.”—“To his own bed?” says one of them: “that is impossible! But I will most willingly lend him my chamber.” They accordingly laid hold of me, and conveyed me into a garret, of which a bed, a table, and a chair, formed the sole movables. Having shut me up in this paltry apartment, they instantly left me. This was all that I wanted, for the moment that I was alone, I immediately sat down to write a long letter to Lodoiska.
I began by fully justifying myself from the crimes of which I had been accused by Pulaski: I then recounted every thing that had occurred since the first moment of our separation, until that when I had entered the castle of Dourlinski: I detailed the particulars of my conversation with the Baron: I concluded by assuring her of the most tender and the most respectful passion, and swore to her, that the moment she gave me the necessary information concerning her situation, I would expose myself to every danger, in order to finish her horrid captivity.
As soon as my letter was sealed, I delivered myself up to a variety of reflections, which threw me into a strange perplexity. Was it actually Lodoiska who had thrown those tiles into the garden? Would Pulaski have had the injustice to punish his daughter for an attachment which he himself had approved? Would he have had the inhumanity to plunge her into a frightful prison? And even if the hatred he had sworn to me had blinded him so much, how was it possible that Dourlinski would thus have condescended to have become the minister of his vengeance?
But, on the other hand, for these three last long months, on purpose to disguise myself, I had only worn tattered clothes: the fatigues of a tedious journey, and my chagrin, had altered me greatly; and who but a mistress could have been able to discover Lovzinski in the gardens of Dourlinski? Besides, had I not seen the name of Lodoiska traced upon the tile? Had not Dourlinski himself acknowledged that Lodoiska had been a prisoner with him? It is true, he had added that she had made her escape; but was not this incredible? And wherefore that hatred which Dourlinski had vowed against me, without knowing my person? What occasioned that look of inquietude, when it was told him, that the emissaries of Pulaski occupied a chamber that looked into his garden? And why above all that appearance of terror, when I announced to him the arrival of my pretended master?
All these circumstances were well calculated to throw me into the greatest agitation. I ruminated over this frightful and mysterious adventure, which it was impossible for me to explain. For two hours, I unceasingly put new questions to myself, to which I was exceedingly embarrassed to make any reply; when at length Boleslas came to see if I had recovered from my debauch. I had but little difficulty in convincing him that my inebriety was mere affectation; after which we went down together to the kitchen, where we spent the rest of the day. What a night! none in my whole life ever appeared so long, not even that which followed.
At length the attendants conducted us to our chamber, where they shut us up, as on the former occasion, without any light: it was yet two tedious hours until midnight. At the first stroke of the clock, we gently opened the shutters and the casement. I then prepared to jump into the garden; but my embarrassment was equal to my despair, when I found myself obstructed by means of iron bars. “Behold,” said I to Boleslas, “what the cursed confident of Dourlinski whispered in his ear! behold what his odious master approved, when he said, let it be done instantly! behold what they have been working at during the day! it was on this account that they prevented us from entering the chamber.”
“My lord, they have stood on the outside,” replies Boleslas; “for they have not perceived that the shutter has been forced.”
“Alas! whether they have perceived it or not,” exclaim I with violence, “what does it signify? This fatal grating destroys all my hopes: it insures the slavery of Lodoiska—it insures my death.”
“Yes, without doubt, it insures thy death!” repeats a person, at the same time opening the door; and immediately after, Dourlinski, preceded by several armed men, and followed by others carrying flambeaux, enter our prison sabre in hand. “Traitor!” exclaims he, while addressing himself to me with a look in which fury was visibly depicted, “I have heard all—I know who you are,—your servant has discovered your name. Tremble! Of all the enemies of Lovzinski, I am the most implacable!”