I have heard a great deal about that since I last saw you;
a great deal that will astonish you. But I had better relate everything
in the order in which it occurred,” said the General. “You saw my dear
ward—my child, I may call her. No creature could have been more
beautiful, and only three months ago none more blooming.”

“Yes, poor thing! when I saw her last she certainly was quite lovely,”
said my father. “I was grieved and shocked more than I can tell you, my
dear friend; I knew what a blow it was to you.”

He took the General’s hand, and they exchanged a kind pressure. Tears
gathered in the old soldier’s eyes. He did not seek to conceal them. He
said:

“We have been very old friends; I knew you would feel for me, childless
as I am. She had become an object of very near interest to me, and
repaid my care by an affection that cheered my home and made my life
happy. That is all gone. The years that remain to me on earth may not
be very long; but by God’s mercy I hope to accomplish a service to
mankind before I die, and to subserve the vengeance of Heaven upon the
fiends who have murdered my poor child in the spring of her hopes and
beauty!”

“You said, just now, that you intended relating everything as it
occurred,” said my father. “Pray do; I assure you that it is not mere
curiosity that prompts me.”

By this time we had reached the point at which the Drunstall road, by
which the General had come, diverges from the road which we were
traveling to Karnstein. “How far is it to the ruins?” inquired the General, looking anxiously
forward. “About half a league,” answered my father. “Pray let us hear the story
you were so good as to promise.”




XI. The Story


With all my heart,” said the General, with an effort; and after a short
pause in which to arrange his subject, he commenced one of the
strangest narratives I ever heard. “My dear child was looking forward with great pleasure to the visit you
had been so good as to arrange for her to your charming daughter.” Here
he made me a gallant but melancholy bow. “In the meantime we had an
invitation to my old friend the Count Carlsfeld, whose schloss is about
six leagues to the other side of Karnstein. It was to attend the series
of fetes which, you remember, were given by him in honor of his
illustrious visitor, the Grand Duke Charles.”

“Yes; and very splendid, I believe, they were,” said my father. “Princely! But then his hospitalities are quite regal. He has Aladdin’s
lamp. The night from which my sorrow dates was devoted to a magnificent
masquerade. The grounds were thrown open, the trees hung with colored
lamps. There was such a display of fireworks as Paris itself had never
witnessed. And such music—music, you know, is my weakness—such
ravishing music! The finest instrumental band, perhaps, in the world,
and the finest singers who could be collected from all the great operas
in Europe. As you wandered through these fantastically illuminated
grounds, the moon-lighted chateau throwing a rosy light from its long
rows of windows, you would suddenly hear these ravishing voices
stealing from the silence of some grove, or rising from boats upon the
lake. I felt myself, as I looked and listened, carried back into the
romance and poetry of my early youth. “When the fireworks were ended, and the ball beginning, we returned to
the noble suite of rooms that were thrown open to the dancers. A masked
ball, you know, is a beautiful sight; but so brilliant a spectacle of
the kind I never saw before. “It was a very aristocratic assembly. I was myself almost the only
‘nobody’ present. “My dear child was looking quite beautiful. She wore no mask. Her
excitement and delight added an unspeakable charm to her features,
always lovely. I remarked a young lady, dressed magnificently, but
wearing a mask, who appeared to me to be observing my ward with
extraordinary interest. I had seen her, earlier in the evening, in the
great hall, and again, for a few minutes, walking near us, on the
terrace under the castle windows, similarly employed. A lady, also
masked, richly and gravely dressed, and with a stately air, like a
person of rank, accompanied her as a chaperon. Had the young lady not worn a mask, I could, of course, have been much
more certain upon the question whether she was really watching my poor
darling. I am now well assured that she was. “We were now in one of the salons. My poor dear child had been dancing,
and was resting a little in one of the chairs near the door; I was
standing near. The two ladies I have mentioned had approached and the
younger took the chair next my ward; while her companion stood beside
me, and for a little time addressed herself, in a low tone, to her
charge. “Availing herself of the privilege of her mask, she turned to me, and
in the tone of an old friend, and calling me by my name, opened a
conversation with me, which piqued my curiosity a good deal. She
referred to many scenes where she had met me—at Court, and at
distinguished houses. She alluded to little incidents which I had long
ceased to think of, but which, I found, had only lain in abeyance in my
memory, for they instantly started into life at her touch. “I became more and more curious to ascertain who she was, every moment. She parried my attempts to discover very adroitly and pleasantly. The
knowledge she showed of many passages in my life seemed to me all but
unaccountable; and she appeared to take a not unnatural pleasure in
foiling my curiosity, and in seeing me flounder in my eager perplexity,
from one conjecture to another. “In the meantime the young lady, whom her mother called by the odd name
of Millarca, when she once or twice addressed her, had, with the same
ease and grace, got into conversation with my ward. “She introduced herself by saying that her mother was a very old
acquaintance of mine. She spoke of the agreeable audacity which a mask
rendered practicable; she talked like a friend; she admired her dress,
and insinuated very prettily her admiration of her beauty. She amused
her with laughing criticisms upon the people who crowded the ballroom,
and laughed at my poor child’s fun. She was very witty and lively when
she pleased, and after a time they had grown very good friends, and the
young stranger lowered her mask, displaying a remarkably beautiful
face. I had never seen it before, neither had my dear child. But though
it was new to us, the features were so engaging, as well as lovely,
that it was impossible not to feel the attraction powerfully. My poor
girl did so. I never saw anyone more taken with another at first sight,
unless, indeed, it was the stranger herself, who seemed quite to have
lost her heart to her. “In the meantime, availing myself of the license of a masquerade, I put
not a few questions to the elder lady. “‘You have puzzled me utterly,’ I said, laughing. ‘Is that not enough?