The Daughter of an Empress

While speaking, he had again attached the string and drawn it tight.

"The defective string is quickly repaired, and you can recommence your

hymn of joy," he said, handing back the guitar to Natalie.

She sadly shook her head. "It is passed," said she, "I can exult and

sing no more to-day, and have an aversion to this garden. See how black

and threatening these pines rise up, and do not these myrtle-bushes

resemble large dark graves? No, no; it frightens me here--I can no

longer remain among these graves and these watchers of the dead! Come,

let us go to our rooms! It is night--we will sleep and dream! Come, let

us immediately go into the house."

And like a frightened roe she fled toward the house, the others

following her.

In an hour all was silent in the villa. The lights were successively

extinguished in Natalie's and Marianne's chambers; only in Carlo's

little chamber yet burned a dull, solitary lamp, and occasionally the

shadow of the uneasy singer passed the window as he restlessly walked

his room. At length, however, this lamp also was distinguished, and all

was dark and still.

About this time a dark shadow was seen creeping slowly and cautiously

through the garden. Soon it stood still, and then one might have

supposed it to be a deception, and that only the wind shaking the pines

had caused that moving shadow. But suddenly it again appeared in a

moonlighted place, where no bush or tree threw its shade, and, as if

alarmed by the brightness, it then again moved aside into the bushes.

This shadow came constantly nearer and nearer to the house, and as the

walks were here broader and lighter, one might distinctly discern

that it was a human being, the form of a tall, stately man, that so

cautiously and stealthily approached the house. And what is that,

sparkling and flashing in his girdle--is it not a dagger, together with

a pistol and a long knife? Ah, a threatening, armed man is approaching

this silent, solitary house, and no one sees, no one hears him! Even the

two large hounds which with remarkable watchfulness patrol the garden

during the night, even they are silent! Ah, where, then, are they? Carlo

had himself unchained them that they might wander freely--where, then,

can they be?

They lie in the bushes far from the house, cold, stiff, and lifeless.

Before them lies a piece of seductively smelling meat. That was what had

enticed them to forget their duty, and, instead of growling and barking,

they had with snuffling noses been licking this tempting flesh. Their

instinct had not told them it was poisoned, and therefore they now lay

stiff and cold near the food that had destroyed them.

No, from those hounds he had nothing more to fear, this bold, audacious

man; the hounds will no more betray him, nor warningly announce that

Joseph Ribas, the venturesome thief and galley-slave, is lurking about

the house to steal or murder, as the case may be.