"You will, then, leave me?" cried the young maiden, turning pale and
anxiously grasping the count's arm. "No, Paulo, you cannot do that!
Would you leave me because I, a foolish child, desired to go to this
festival, and was no longer contented with our dear and beautiful
solitude? That was wrong in me, Paulo, as I now plainly see, and I
desire it no longer! Oh, we will prepare other pleasures for ourselves
here in our delightful paradise. You have often called me a poetess,
and I will now believe I am, and no longer wish to see another. I will
suffice for myself! Come, I will immediately sing you a song, a festival
song, my friend!"
And taking her guitar, Natalie struck some joyous accords; but Count
Paulo lightly laid his hands upon the strings so as to silence them, and
drawing the tips of her fingers to his lips, with a slight shaking of
his head, he said: "Not now, my charming poetess, I am not worthy of
hearing you."
"And it is late," added Cecil, coming as it were to the aid of his
master.
The count rose. "Yes, you are right--it is late," said he, "and I must
not longer keep Natalie from her slumber. Come, my sweet child, you must
retire; you must sleep, that your brow may beam with blooming freshness
to-morrow!"
Natalie made no answer; with a light sigh she mechanically took the
count's offered arm.
Cecil preceded them with the lantern in his hand. Thus they proceeded up
the alley leading to the villa, all three silent and thoughtful. The sky
had become obscured, a black cloud intercepted the light of the moon,
and Natalie's charmed garden was suddenly wrapped in gloom.
A cold shudder ran through her delicate frame.
"A feeling of anxiety has come over me!" she whispered, clinging close
to the count's side.
"Poor child!" said the count. "Are you already oppressed with fear?"
"What if the wall should give way, and bad people should intrude into
our garden! Ah, Marianne says that misfortune lurks everywhere in the
world, lying in ambush for those who think themselves safe, destroying
their happiness, and making them wholly miserable; and people only laugh
and rejoice that another man's hopes have been wrecked! Ah, and I
have felt so secure in my happiness! If misfortune should now actually
come--if these walls should prove not high enough to keep it off! Ah,
Paulo, protect me from lurking misfortune!"
They had now arrived at the door of the villa. Paulo pressed the
trembling young maiden with paternal tenderness to his breast, and,
lightly touching her forehead with his lips, he said: "Good-night, my
love! Sleep gently, and be not anxious! So long as I live, misfortune
shall never approach you! Rest assured of that!"