For some moments longer Girardi held him pressed to his heart; then, by a sudden effort, relinquishing his warm embrace, turned towards Ludovico, and, by way of concealing his own emotion, affected to busy himself by giving in charge to the jailer the friend he was about to leave; to which the poor fellow, perfectly comprehending the old man’s motives, replied only by offering the support of his arm to conduct his faltering steps to the carriage.
Charney, meanwhile, drew near to Teresa for the purpose of a last farewell. Leaning with one hand on the back of her chair, her eyes fixed on the ground, she stood motionless, speechless, as if there were no question of quitting the place. Even when the Count advanced towards her, she remained for some moments without speaking, till, irresistibly moved by his paleness and agitation, she exclaimed, “I call our Picciola to witness that——” But Teresa was not able to complete the sentence; her heart was too full to utter another syllable. One of her gloves at that moment escaped her trembling hands, which Charney picked up; and, ere he restored it, raised it silently to his lips.
“Keep it!” said she, while tears streamed down her cheeks, “keep it till we meet again.”
Another moment, and she was following her father. They were gone! All was dark in the destinies of the Count de Charney. After watching the closing of the postern-door, he stood like one petrified, with his eyes fixed on the spot where they had disappeared; his hand still grasping convulsively the parting pledge bestowed upon him by Teresa.
