That party was small in number compared with those we have before seen in the same mansion; for the retainers of the house, though lately increased in number, had withdrawn, and left the lord of the castle and his family alone. Old Seckendorf, indeed, still occupied a seat amongst the rest, but the fact was, that the stout aged knight, after a morning spent in hard and vigorous exercise, had eaten and drunk to repletion, and was now nodding away the hour of digestion with his head leaning on his hand. At the head of the table, sat the old Count of Ehrenstein himself, with ineffaceable traces of cares and labours still visible on his cheek and brow, his hair white as snow, and his beard and eyebrows somewhat grey, but with a clear light in his keen eye, the rose upon his cheek, his frame firm and strong, and a hand that could raise a cup rounded with wine untrembling to his lips. Through all and above all sparkled that living grace which never dies; which age cannot wither, nor time touch; which death itself--as those who have marked the clay of men kindly and cheerful in their nature, must know well--which death itself, I say, gives over to corruption undiminished--the grace which an elevated, generous, and noble spirit spreads through the whole frame that contains it. By his side sat his long-lost but well-beloved wife, who now, in the garments of her rank and station, freed from grief, anxiety, and apprehension, had recovered from the grasp of time a great portion of that beauty for which she had once been famous. Her eyes were turned upon the face which she had so constantly loved, her hand rested near his, as if ready to touch it, and assure herself that he was there indeed; and the half opened lips, when he spoke, showed how she drank in his words, and how musical to her ear was the voice which she had once deemed stilled in death. Near them were another pair, in the first fruition of life's brightest hopes, Ferdinand and Adelaide. His face was all brightness; his joy was at its full; care and sorrow had no hold upon his heart; from his own bosom spread forth a light that brightened all things; and the world, and every object it contained, seemed instinct with joy, and lustrous with happiness. Man's nature is not more susceptible of pleasurable emotions than woman's, and, indeed, perhaps the finer delights, the more delicate enjoyments which she feels, are to him unknown; yet, as an equivalent, those very fine movements of the spirit, which are the source of so much delight, are often the cause of shadowy afflictions. Man can enjoy to the full, woman seldom, without some vague sensation of a different character,--it may be melancholy, it may be regret, it may be fear--mingling even with the cup of joy, perhaps to diminish, perhaps to heighten the flavour,--which I know not.