so much more potent than our affected and studied elegancies. She
had almost all the honors of the quadrille, and if she were envious
of the Count of San-Felice's daughter, we will not undertake to say
that Carmela was not jealous of her. And with overpowering
compliments her handsome cavalier led her back to the place whence
he had taken her, and where Luigi awaited her. Twice or thrice
during the dance the young girl had glanced at Luigi, and each time
she saw that he was pale and that his features were agitated, once
even the blade of his knife, half drawn from its sheath, had
dazzled her eyes with its sinister glare. Thus, it was almost
tremblingly that she resumed her lover's arm. The quadrille had
been most perfect, and it was evident there was a great demand for
a repetition, Carmela alone objecting to it, but the Count of
San-Felice besought his daughter so earnestly, that she acceded.
One of the cavaliers then hastened to invite Teresa, without whom
it was impossible for the quadrille to be formed, but the young
girl had disappeared. The truth was, that Luigi had not felt the
strength to support another such trial, and, half by persuasion and
half by force, he had removed Teresa toward another part of the
garden. Teresa had yielded in spite of herself, but when she looked
at the agitated countenance of the young man, she understood by his
silence and trembling voice that something strange was passing
within him. She herself was not exempt from internal emotion, and
without having done anything wrong, yet fully comprehended that
Luigi was right in reproaching her. Why, she did not know, but yet
she did not the less feel that these reproaches were merited.
However, to Teresa's great astonishment, Luigi remained mute, and
not a word escaped his lips the rest of the evening. When the chill
of the night had driven away the guests from the gardens, and the
gates of the villa were closed on them for the festa in-doors, he
took Teresa quite away, and as he left her at her home, he said,
—took Teresa quite away, and as he left her at her home, he said,
—
"`Teresa, what were you thinking of as you danced opposite the
young Countess of San-Felice?' — `I thought,' replied the young
girl, with all the frankness of her nature, `that I would give half
my life for a costume such as she wore.'
"`And what said your cavalier to you?' — `He said it only
depended on myself to have it, and I had only one word to say.'
"`He was right,' said Luigi. `Do you desire it as ardently as
you say?' — `Yes.' — `Well, then, you shall have it!'
"The young girl, much astonished, raised her head to look at
him, but his face was so gloomy and terrible that her words froze
to her lips. As Luigi spoke thus, he left her. Teresa followed him
with her eyes into the darkness as long as she could, and when he
had quite disappeared, she went into the house with a sigh.
"That night a memorable event occurred, due, no doubt, to the
imprudence of some servant who had neglected to extinguish the
lights. The Villa of San-Felice took fire in the rooms adjoining
the very apartment of the lovely Carmela. Awakened in the night by
the light of the flames, she sprang out of bed, wrapped herself in
a dressing-gown, and attempted to escape by the door, but the
corridor by which she hoped to fly was already a prey to the
flames. She then returned to her room, calling for help as loudly
as she could, when suddenly her window, which was twenty feet from
the ground, was opened, a young peasant jumped into the chamber,
seized her in his arms, and with superhuman skill and strength
conveyed her to the turf of the grass-plot, where she fainted. When
she recovered, her father was by her side. All the servants
surrounded her, offering her assistance. An entire wing of the
villa was burnt down; but what of that, as long as Carmela was safe
and uninjured? Her preserver was everywhere sought for, but he did
not appear; he was inquired after, but no one had seen him. Carmela
was greatly troubled that she had not recognized him. As the countwas greatly troubled that she had not recognized him. As the count
was immensely rich, excepting the danger Carmela had run, — and the
marvellous manner in which she had escaped, made that appear to him
rather a favor of providence than a real misfortune, — the loss
occasioned by the conflagration was to him but a trifle.
"The next day, at the usual hour, the two young peasants were on
the borders of the forest. Luigi arrived first. He came toward
Teresa in high spirits, and seemed to have completely forgotten the
events of the previous evening. The young girl was very pensive,
but seeing Luigi so cheerful, she on her part assumed a smiling
air, which was natural to her when she was not excited or in a
passion. Luigi took her arm beneath his own, and led her to the
door of the grotto. Then he paused. The young girl, perceiving that
there was something extraordinary, looked at him steadfastly.
`Teresa,' said Luigi, `yesterday evening you told me you would give
all the world to have a costume similar to that of the count's
daughter.' — `Yes,' replied Teresa with astonishment; `but I was
mad to utter such a wish.' — `And I replied, "Very well, you shall
have it."' — `Yes,' replied the young girl, whose astonishment
increased at every word uttered by Luigi, `but of course your reply
was only to please me.'
"`I have promised no more than I have given you, Teresa,' said
Luigi proudly. `Go into the grotto and dress yourself.' At these
words he drew away the stone, and showed Teresa the grotto, lighted
up by two wax lights, which burnt on each side of a splendid
mirror; on a rustic table, made by Luigi, were spread out the pearl
necklace and the diamond pins, and on a chair at the side was laid
the rest of the costume.
"Teresa uttered a cry of joy, and, without inquiring whence this
attire came, or even thanking Luigi, darted into the grotto,
transformed into a dressing-room. Luigi pushed the stone behind
her, for on the crest of a small adjacent hill which cut off the