I spent two hours in this manner, and then went to bed, impatient to renew the combat on the following day more at my ease and with greater comfort.
At eight o'clock we were all assembled round the breakfast-table, but in spite of my high spirits I could not make the rest of the company share them. All were silent and pensive; curiosity shewed itself on every face. Clementine and her sister pretended to partake the general feeling, and were silent like the rest while I
looked on and enjoyed their expectancy.
Clairmont, who had fulfilled my instructions to the letter, came in and told us that the carriages were at the door. I asked my guests to follow me, and they did so in silence. I put the countess and Clementine in my carriage, the latter holding the baby on her lap, her sister and the three gentlemen being seated in the other carriage. I called out, with a laugh, "Drive to Milan."
"Milan! Milan!" they exclaimed with one voice. "Capital!
capital!"
Clairmont galloped in front of us and went off. Clementine pretended to be astonished, but her sister looked as if she had known something of our destination before. All care, however, had disappeared, and the highest spirits prevailed. We stopped at a village half-way between St. Angelo and Milan to blow the horses, and everybody got down.
"What will my wife say?" asked the count.
"Nothing, for she will not know anything about it, and if she does I am the only guilty party. You are to dine with me in a suite of rooms which I have occupied incognito since I have been at Milan;
for you will understand that I could not have my wants attended to at your house, where the place is already taken."
"And how about Zenobia?"
"Zenobia was a lucky chance, and is a very nice girl, but she would not suffice for my daily fare."
"You are a lucky fellow!"
"I try to make myself comfortable."
"My dear husband," said the Countess Ambrose, "you proposed a visit to Milan two years ago, and the chevalier proposed it a few hours ago, and now we are on our way."
"Yes, sweetheart, but my idea was that we should spend a month there."
"If you want to do that," said I, "I will see to everything."
"Thank you, my dear sir; you are really a wonderful man."
"You do me too much honour, count, there is nothing wonderful about me, except that I execute easily an easy task."
"Yes; but you will confess that a thing may be difficult from the way in which we regard it, or from the position in which we find ourselves."
"You are quite right."
When we were again on our way the countess said,--
"You must confess, sir, that you are a very fortunate man."
"I do not deny it, my dear countess, but my happiness is due to the company I find myself in; if you were to expel me from yours, I should be miserable"
"You are not the kind of man to be expelled from any society."
"That is a very kindly compliment."
"Say, rather, a very true one."
"I am happy to hear you say so, but it would be both foolish and presumptuous for me to say so myself."
Thus we made merry on our way, above all at the expense of the canon, who had been begging the countess to intercede with me to give him leave to absent himself half an hour.
"I want to call on a lady," said he; "I should lose her favour forever if she came to know that I had been in Milan without paying her a visit."
"You must submit to the conditions," replied the amiable countess, "so don't count on my intercession."
We got to Milan exactly at noon, and stepped out at the pastry-
cook's door. The landlady begged the countess to confide her child to her care, and shewed her a bosom which proved her fruitfulness. This offer was made at the foot of the stairs, and the countess accepted it with charming grace and dignity. It was a delightful episode, which chance had willed should adorn the entertainment I had invented. Everybody seemed happy, but I was the happiest of all. Happiness is purely a creature of the imagination. If you wish to be happy fancy that you are so, though I confess that circumstances favourable to this state are often beyond our control. On the other hand, unfavourable circumstances are mostly the result of our own mistakes.
The countess took my arm, and we led the way into my room which I
found exquisitely neat and clean. As I had expected, Zenobia was there, but I was surprised to see Croce's mistress, looking very pretty; however, I pretended not to know her. She was well dressed, and her face, free from the sadness it had borne before, was so seductive in its beauty, that I felt vexed at her appearance at that particular moment.
"Here are two pretty girls," said the countess. "Who are you, pray?"
"We are the chevalier's humble servants," said Zenobia, "and we are here only to wait on you."
Zenobia had taken it on herself to bring her lodger, who began to speak Italian, and looked at me in doubt, fearing that I was displeased at her presence. I had to reassure her by saying I was very glad she had come with Zenobia. These words were as balm to her heart; she smiled again, and became more beautiful than ever.
I felt certain that she would not remain unhappy long; it was impossible to behold her without one's interest being excited in her favour. A bill signed by the Graces can never be protested;
anyone with eyes and a heart honours it at sight.
My humble servants took the ladies' cloaks and followed them into the bedroom, where the three dresses were laid out on a table. I
only knew the white satin and lace, for that was the only one I
had designed. The countess, who walked before her sisters, was the first to notice it, and exclaimed,--
"What a lovely dress! To whom does it belong, M. de Seingalt?
You ought to know."
"Certainly. It belongs to your husband who can do what he likes with it, and I hope, if he gives it you, you will take it. Take it, count; it is yours; and if you refuse I will positively kill myself."
"We love you too well to drive you to an act of despair. The idea is worthy of your nobility of heart. I take your beautiful present with one hand, and with the other I deliver it to her to whom it really belongs."