I was confounded by her speech, ‘severe in youthful wisdom’; all of naive or lively, suitable to such a dialogue, vanished from my recollection, and I answered with gravity like her own, ‘I am, indeed, better educated than these poor people; but you, madam, whose kind admonition I am grateful for, must know more of my condition than I do myself—I dare not say I am their superior in birth, since I know nothing of my own, or in fortunes, over which hangs an impenetrable cloud.’
‘And why should your ignorance on these points drive you into low society and idle habits?’ answered my female monitor. ‘Is it manly to wait till fortune cast her beams upon you, when by exertion of your own energy you might distinguish yourself? Do not the pursuits of learning lie open to you—of manly ambition—of war? But no—not of war, that has already cost you too dear.’
‘I will be what you wish me to be,’ I replied with eagerness—‘You have but to choose my path, and you shall see if I do not pursue it with energy, were it only because you command me.’
‘Not because I command you,’ said the maiden, ‘but because reason, common sense, manhood, and, in one word, regard for your own safety, give the same counsel.’
‘At least permit me to reply, that reason and sense never assumed a fairer form—of persuasion,’ I hastily added; for she turned from me—nor did she give me another opportunity of continuing what I had to say till the next pause of the dance, when, determined to bring our dialogue to a point, I said, ‘You mentioned manhood also, and in the same breath, personal danger. My ideas of manhood suggest that it is cowardice to retreat before dangers of a doubtful character. You, who appear to know so much of my fortunes that I might call you my guardian angel, tell me what these dangers are, that I may judge whether manhood calls on me to face or to fly them.’
She was evidently perplexed by this appeal.
‘You make me pay dearly for acting as your humane adviser,’ she replied at last: ‘I acknowledge an interest in your fate, and yet I dare not tell you whence it arises; neither am I at liberty to say why, or from whom, you are in danger; but it is not less true that danger is near and imminent. Ask me no more, but, for your own sake, begone from this country. Elsewhere you are safe—here you do but invite your fate.’
‘But am I doomed to bid thus farewell to almost the only human being who has showed an interest in my welfare? Do not say so—say that we shall meet again, and the hope shall be the leading star to regulate my course!’
‘It is more than probable,’ she said—‘much more than probable, that we may never meet again. The help which I now render you is all that may be in my power; it is such as I should render to a blind man whom I might observe approaching the verge of a precipice; it ought to excite no surprise, and requires no gratitude.’
So saying, she again turned from me, nor did she address me until the dance was on the point of ending, when she said, ‘Do not attempt to speak to or approach me again in the course of the night; leave the company as soon as you can, but not abruptly, and God be with you.’