Charney, overwhelmed with grief, sank upon his bench. A momentary pang suggested to him to crush Picciola at once, executing retributive justice upon her with his own hand. But he had not courage for a deed so ruthless; and a faint hope already seemed to glimmer in the distance, for his favourite. The young maiden, who had thus generously devoted herself to serve him, must be already returned. Perhaps she had been able to approach the Emperor? Yes! doubtless she has been admitted to the honour of an audience; and it is this discovery which has so irritated the commandant against her. The commandant may possibly have in his possession an order for the liberation of Picciola! In that case how dares he venture on further delay? The commands of the Emperor _must_ be obeyed. “Blessings, blessings,” thought Charney, “on the noble girl who has befriended us—the girl whom I have been the means of separating from her father! Teresa! sweet Teresa! how willingly would I sacrifice half my existence for thy sake—for thy happiness—nay, what would I _not_ give for the mere power of opening to thee once again the gates of the fortress of Fenestrella!” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. Scarcely half an hour had elapsed after the intimation conveyed by Ludovico, when two municipal officers, arrayed in their tri-coloured scarfs of office, presented themselves, accompanied by the commandant, before the Count de Charney, and requested him to accompany them to his own chamber; on arriving in which, the commandant addressed his prisoner with considerable pomposity and deliberation. The commandant was a man of dignified corpulency, having a round bald head, and gray and bushy whiskers. A deep scar, extending from his left eyebrow to the upper lip, seemed to divide his face in two. A long, blue, uniform coat, with prodigious skirts, buttoned closely to the chin, top-boots over his pantaloons, a slight tint of powder on his remnant of a braided pigtail, and scanty side-curls, spurs to his boots (by way of distinction, doubtless, for the rheumatism had long constituted him chief prisoner in his own citadel)—such were the outward and visible signs of the dignitary, whose only warlike weapon was the cane on which his gouty limbs leaned for support. Appointed to the custody of prisoners of state alone, most of whom were members of families of distinction, the commandant piqued himself on his good breeding, in spite of frequent outbreaks of fury: and, in spite of certain infractions of prosody and syntax, on the chosen elegance of his language. He was upright, moreover, as a pikestaff; rejoiced in an emphatic and sonorous voice; flourished his hand when he attempted a bow, and scratched his head when he attempted a speech. Thus qualified and endowed, the brave Morand, captain and commandant of Fenestrella, passed for a fine soldierlike-looking man, and an efficient public functionary.