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Updated: June 19, 2025
As he sprang into this chamber the young girl's exclamation of fear was but the prelude to an expression of gladness, while Mauville's consternation when he found himself disarmed and powerless, was as great as his surprise. For a moment, therefore, in his bearing bravado was tempered with hesitancy. "You here?" stammered the land baron, as he involuntarily recoiled from his own weapon.
"And such dunces sit in judgment!" he muttered to the scholar. "Curse me, Mauville's in a temper to-night!" said the spark in a low voice. "Been drinking, I reckon! But it's time for the next act!" Punches and juleps were hastily disposed of, and the imbibers quickly sought their places. This sudden influx, with its accompanying laughter and chattering, aroused the marquis from his lethargy.
With characteristic prudence, he had timed the period of his departure with the beginning of the end in the fortunes of the old patroon principality. The storm-cloud, gathering during the life of Mauville's predecessor, was now ready to burst, the impending catastrophe hastened by the heir's want of discretion and his failure to adjust difficulties amicably.
"Are you going to ride in the property wagon?" he heard Saint-Prosper ask. "Yes; when I have a part to study I sometimes retire to the stage throne," she answered lightly. "I suppose you will ride your horse?" Of his reply the listener caught only the words, "wind-break" and "lame." He observed the soldier assist her to the throne, and then, to Mauville's surprise, spring into the wagon himself.
And, when the transition did come, every pose spoke of the quickening heart; her movements proclaimed the golden fetters; passion shone in her glances, defiant though willing, lofty though humble, joyous though shy. Was it the heat from the lamps? but Mauville's brow became flushed; his buoyancy seemed gross and brutal; desire lurked in his lively glances; Pan gleamed from the curls of Hyperion!
A cold glance was the soldier's only response, as without a word he turned brusquely away. Meanwhile the doctor, hastening to Mauville's side, opened his shirt. "He is badly hurt?" asked Barnes, anxiously, of the surgeon. "No; only fainted from loss of blood," replied that gentleman, cheerfully. "He will be around again in a day or two."
The count's company, of which he had enjoyed a good deal during the past forty-eight hours, did not improve Mauville's temper, and he bore his own reflections so grudgingly that inaction became intolerable.
Saint-Prosper started violently, but in a moment Mauville's expression changed, and he appeared plunged in thought. "The last time I saw her," he said, half to himself, "she was dressed in black her face as noonday her hair black as midnight crowning her with languorous allurement!" He repeated the last word several times like a man in a dream.
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