The silent, moonlighted, solitary road, how it contrasted with
the many-eddied whirl of pleasure from whose roar and music,
lights, diamonds and colours, I had just extricated myself.
The sight of lonely Nature at such an hour, acts like a sudden
sedative. The madness and guilt of my pursuit struck me with a
momentary compunction and horror. I wished I had never entered
the labyrinth which was leading me, I knew not whither. It was
too late to think of that now; but the bitter was already
stealing into my cup; and vague anticipations lay, for a few
minutes, heavy on my heart. It would not have taken much to make
me disclose my unmanly state of mind to my lively friend, Alfred
Ogle, nor even to the milder ridicule of the agreeable Tom
Whistlewick.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PARC OF THE CHATEAU DE LA CARQUE.
There was no danger of the Dragon Volant's closing its doors on
that occasion till three or four in the morning. There were
quartered there many servants of great people, whose masters
would not leave the ball till the last moment, and who could not
return to their corners in the Dragon Volant, till their last
services had been rendered.
I knew, therefore, I should have ample time for my mysterious
excursion without exciting curiosity by being shut out.
And now we pulled up under the canopy of boughs, before the sign
of the Dragon Volant, and the light that shone from its
hall-door.
I dismissed my carriage, ran up the broad staircase, mask in
hand, with my domino fluttering about me, and entered the large
bed-room. The black wainscoting and stately furniture, with the
dark curtains of the very tall bed, made the night there more
sombre.
An oblique patch of moonlight was thrown upon the floor from the
window to which I hastened. I looked out upon the landscape
slumbering in those silvery beams. There stood the outline of the
Château de la Carque, its chimneys, and many turrets with their
extinguisher-shaped roofs black against the soft grey sky. There,
also, more in the foreground, about midway between the window
where I stood, and the château, but a little to the left, I
traced the tufted masses of the grove which the lady in the mask
had appointed as the trysting-place, where I and the beautiful
Countess were to meet that night.
I took "the bearings" of this gloomy bit of wood, whose foliage
glimmered softly at top in the light of the moon.
You may guess with what a strange interest and swelling of the
heart I gazed on the unknown scene of my coming adventure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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