Soon, however, all this constraint, all these efforts to disguise their real sentiments, were suddenly dropped on both sides. After listening attentively to the information imparted by Girardi, who mentioned frequent instances where the pardon of prisoners, though publicly announced, had not been suffered to take effect for many succeeding months, the young people allowed themselves to be convinced; and with mutual and unconcealed delight, began performing projects for the morrow and succeeding days, as if, henceforward, the fortress of Fenestrella were to be the home of their happiness and choice. Restored to the society of Teresa, their guardian angel, the two captives appeared to have but a single earthly misfortune to apprehend, the liberation of one of them to disunite the little party.
Already, the philosophers were resuming their arguments, and Teresa her embroidery. The pale rays of the sun, partially illuminating the little court, fell lightly on the countenance of Girardi’s daughter, while a refreshing breeze played amid the folds of her drapery and the floating ribands by which it was confined. At length, excited by the freshness of the atmosphere, she threw aside her work, rose from her seat, shook out the ringlets of her raven hair, rejoicing in the return of hope and sunshine, when suddenly the postern-door was thrown open, and Captain Morand, accompanied by Ludovico and a municipal officer, made his appearance.
They came to signify to Giacomo Girardi the act of his liberation. He was to quit Fenestrella without delay; a carriage was in waiting at the extremity of the glacis to convey him and his daughter to Turin.
At the moment of the commandant’s arrival, Teresa was standing beside her father, but she instantly sank backward in her chair, resumed her needlework, and, had Charney ventured a look towards her, he would have been startled, on perceiving how instantaneously the hues of life and health had faded from her cheek. But Charney neither stirred nor raised his eyes from the ground, while Girardi was receiving from the hands of the officers those papers and documents which were to restore him, with an unblemished reputation, to his station in society. All was now complete; and there was no longer an excuse for prolonging the liberated prisoner’s preparations for departure.
Ludovico had already brought down from Girardi’s chamber the solitary trunk containing his effects; the officers waited to escort him back to Turin; the hour of parting had irrevocably struck. Rising once from her seat, Teresa began deliberately to put up her working materials, and arrange the scarf upon her shoulders; she even tried to put on her gloves, but her hands trembled too much to effect her purpose.
The farewell.
Charney stood for a moment paralysed by the blow. Then, arming himself with courage, he exclaimed, as he threw himself into the arms of Girardi—
“Farewell, my dearest father!”
“Farewell, my son! farewell, my beloved son,” faltered the good old man. “Be of good cheer. Rely upon our exertions in your behalf; rely on the steadiness of our affection. Adieu, adieu!”