Room in the Dragon Volant | Page 6

too easily. The dialogue was only for a
minute; the repulsive male voice laughed, I fancied, with a kind of
devilish satire, and retired from the window, so that I almost ceased to
hear it.
The other voice remained nearer the window, but not so near as at first.
It was not an altercation; there was evidently nothing the least exciting
in the colloquy. What would I not have given that it had been a
quarrel--a violent one--and I the redresser of wrongs, and the defender
of insulted beauty! Alas! so far as I could pronounce upon the character

of the tones I heard, they might be as tranquil a pair as any in existence.
In a moment more the lady began to sing an odd little chanson. I need
not remind you how much farther the voice is heard singing than
speaking. I could distinguish the words. The voice was of that
exquisitely sweet kind which is called, I believe, a semi-contralto; it
had something pathetic, and something, I fancied, a little mocking in its
tones. I venture a clumsy, but adequate translation of the words:
"Death and Love, together mated, Watch and wait in ambuscade; At
early morn, or else belated, They meet and mark the man or maid.
Burning sigh, or breath that freezes, Numbs or maddens man or maid;
Death or Love the victim seizes, Breathing from their ambuscade."
"Enough, Madame!" said the old voice, with sudden severity. "We do
not desire, I believe, to amuse the grooms and hostlers in the yard with
our music."
The lady's voice laughed gaily.
"You desire to quarrel, Madame!" And the old man, I presume, shut
down the window. Down it went, at all events, with a rattle that might
easily have broken the glass.
Of all thin partitions, glass is the most effectual excluder of sound. I
heard no more, not even the subdued hum of the colloquy.
What a charming voice this Countess had! How it melted, swelled, and
trembled! How it moved, and even agitated me! What a pity that a
hoarse old jackdaw should have power to crow down such a Philomel!
"Alas! what a life it is!" I moralized, wisely. "That beautiful Countess,
with the patience of an angel and the beauty of a Venus and the
accomplishments of all the Muses, a slave! She knows perfectly who
occupies the apartments over hers; she heard me raise my window. One
may conjecture pretty well for whom that music was intended--aye, old
gentleman, and for whom you suspected it to be intended."
In a very agreeable flutter I left my room and, descending the stairs,

passed the Count's door very much at my leisure. There was just a
chance that the beautiful songstress might emerge. I dropped my stick
on the lobby, near their door, and you may be sure it took me some
little time to pick it up! Fortune, nevertheless, did not favor me. I could
not stay on the lobby all night picking up my stick, so I went down to
the hall.
I consulted the clock, and found that there remained but a quarter of an
hour to the moment of supper.
Everyone was roughing it now, every inn in confusion; people might do
at such a juncture what they never did before. Was it just possible that,
for once, the Count and Countess would take their chairs at the
table-d'hôte?

Chapter IV
MONSIEUR DROQVILLE
Full of this exciting hope I sauntered out upon the steps of the Belle
Étoile. It was now night, and a pleasant moonlight over everything. I
had entered more into my romance since my arrival, and this poetic
light heightened the sentiment. What a drama if she turned out to be the
Count's daughter, and in love with me! What a delightful--tragedy if
she turned out to be the Count's wife! In this luxurious mood I was
accosted by a tall and very elegantly made gentleman, who appeared to
be about fifty. His air was courtly and graceful, and there was in his
whole manner and appearance something so distinguished that it was
impossible not to suspect him of being a person of rank.
He had been standing upon the steps, looking out, like me, upon the
moonlight effects that transformed, as it were, the objects and buildings
in the little street. He accosted me, I say, with the politeness, at once
easy and lofty, of a French nobleman of the old school. He asked me if
I were not Mr. Beckett? I assented; and he immediately introduced
himself as the Marquis d'Harmonville (this information he gave me in a

low tone), and asked leave to present me with a letter from Lord R----,
who knew my father slightly, and had once done me, also, a trifling
kindness.