It was not until she was close beside her that Lucia gave any sign of being aroused. “Come, madam’s nerves are giving way,” said Finette smilingly. “Time is flying, and madam knows how long it takes to dress. Sit in this great easy chair, and steady yourself, while I brush out your hair. Come, they say people always fall into a terrible way just before they get married, though when the dreadful words have been spoken by the clergyman, they begin to laugh at themselves for being so silly. It is quite proper to cry on one’s wedding-day, madam.” She lent the support of her youthful arm to Lucia, who rose mechanically, as if in a dream, and placed her before the dressing-table, a fairy picture of lace, silver, carved ivory, and gold. Then she proceeded to array the bride, who exerted herself when desired to do so, but otherwise sat or stood like a lovely inanimate statue or waxen figure. Although it was to be a strictly private marriage, the only attendant on herself being Finette, Lucia had prepared a toilet of the most recherché quality. A pure, white silk, covered with rare and costly laces, a hat of elfin workmanship, over which was thrown a square of tulle, frilled and embroidered petticoats, proclaimed her bridal state. With a great yearning, she had desired white satin and a lace veil, and to wear some of her diamonds, but was obliged to stifle the wish. When she was dressed, Finette left her sitting by the open window, the balcony of which was heaped with exquisite flowers. The girl--her only bridesmaid--went to attire herself in her own room, which adjoined that of her mistress. “What has happened to me?” Lucia asked herself in affright. “What means this weakness, this sense of a sudden blank? Shall I be able to go through my morning’s work? What will happen next? Shall I live to enjoy my honors, my wealth, my prince’s adoration? Nay, I must strive against this pain and depression and fear.” Rising, she began to walk to and fro, with uncertain, wavering steps, swaying from side to side unconsciously. Presently Finette returned, arrayed in a really charming manner in a cloud of pretty, fresh, embroidered muslin. In her hand was a large bouquet of the most choice blossoms, fit for the bride of a king to carry. “See, madam,” she exclaimed gaily; “here are some flowers, this moment sent. There was no name left, but you will guess from whom they have come.” Lucia took the flowers, and put the bouquet up to her pale face, without making any remark. “See how the sun shines--a happy omen!” continued the girl lightly, as she gathered up her mistress’ handkerchief, gloves, and little ivory fan. “The carriage waits--we shall be in good time.” Lucia recovered her strength, and in a certain degree her spirits. They descended to the carriage, and drove to the Russian embassy. CHAPTER XXXII. LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S MADNESS.