"Well, well, be it so, Tarleton; you are an odd sort of fellow. Julia, dear,"--this, aside to his nephew; "wait for me in the Scarlet Chamber, up stairs, you know?" The nephew whispered _her_ assent. "I'll join you presently. Now Count,"--this to Tarleton,--"lead the way, and let us celebrate these mysterious nuptials." And the three left the Central Hall together. Tarleton and the Doctor, on their way to the Bridal Chamber, and the nephew on _her_ way to the Scarlet Chamber. Near the central pillar stood the White Monk, with the hands of the White Nun resting on his shoulders, and his arms about her waist. Her hood has fallen; her countenance, flushed and glowing, lies open to his gaze. A beautiful nun, with blue eyes, swimming in fiery light, and unbound hair, bright as gold, sweeping a cheek like a rosebud, and resting upon neck and shoulders white as snow. And the White Monk bends down, and their lips meet, and she falls, half passionately, half shuddering, on his breast. "Oh, Beverly, Beverly! whither would you lead me?" He scarce can distinguish the words, so faint, so broken by agitation is her voice. "Your husband is false. He has trampled upon your love. I love you, and will avenge you. Come, Joanna!" And from the light into the shadow, with the trembling nun half resting on his arm, half reposing on his breast, passes the White Monk. They reach the threshold of the hall. Pass it not, Joanna, as you love your child! pass it not, on peril of your soul! But no! "Come, Joanna!" and they are gone together. From the throng of maskers who glide to and fro, select, for a moment, the lady in black, who stands gloomily yonder, gathering the folds of her robe about her face. Does this scene attract, or repel her? Within that shapeless robe, does her bosom swell with pleasure--voluptuous pleasure? or does it contract with terror and loathing? Her Turkish friend,--the diminutive gentleman in the red jacket, spangled all over, blue trowsers and red morocco boots,--in vain offers her a glass of sparkling champagne; and just as vainly essays to draw her forth in conversation. At last, he seems to weary of her continued silence: "If you will favor me with your company for a few moments, I will explain the purpose which impelled me to request an interview at this place." "Let it be at once, then," is the whispered reply. He offers his arm; she quietly but firmly pushes it aside. "I will follow you," she says in her low-toned voice. And the Turk leaves the hall, followed by the Lady in Black. "The Blue Chamber!" he ejaculates, as he crosses the threshold.