Chapter 45. The Rain of Blood
As the jeweller returned to the apartment, he cast around him ascrutinizing glance—but there was nothing to excite suspicion, if it didnot exist, or to confirm it, if it were already awakened. Caderousse’shands still grasped the gold and bank-notes, and La Carconte called upher sweetest smiles while welcoming the reappearance of their guest.
“‘Well, well,’ said the jeweller, ‘you seem, my good friends, to havehad some fears respecting the accuracy of your money, by counting itover so carefully directly I was gone.’
“‘Oh, no,’ answered Caderousse, ‘that was not my reason, I can assureyou; but the circumstances by which we have become possessed of thiswealth are so unexpected, as to make us scarcely credit our goodfortune, and it is only by placing the actual proof of our riches beforeour eyes that we can persuade ourselves that the whole affair is not adream.’
“The jeweller smiled. ‘Have you any other guests in your house?’inquired he.
“‘Nobody but ourselves,’ replied Caderousse; ‘the fact is, we do notlodge travellers—indeed, our tavern is so near the town, that nobodywould think of stopping here.’
“‘Then I am afraid I shall very much inconvenience you.’
“‘Inconvenience us? Not at all, my dear sir,’ said La Carconte in hermost gracious manner. ‘Not at all, I assure you.’
“‘But where will you manage to stow me?’
“‘In the chamber overhead.’
“‘Surely that is where you yourselves sleep?’
“‘Never mind that; we have a second bed in the adjoining room.’
“Caderousse stared at his wife with much astonishment.
“The jeweller, meanwhile, was humming a song as he stood warming hisback at the fire La Carconte had kindled to dry the wet garments of herguest; and this done, she next occupied herself in arranging his supper,by spreading a napkin at the end of the table, and placing on it theslender remains of their dinner, to which she added three or four fresh-laid eggs. Caderousse had once more parted with his treasure—thebanknotes were replaced in the pocket-book, the gold put back into thebag, and the whole carefully locked in the cupboard. He then beganpacing the room with a pensive and gloomy air, glancing from time totime at the jeweller, who stood reeking with the steam from his wetclothes, and merely changing his place on the warm hearth, to enable thewhole of his garments to be dried.
“‘There,’ said La Carconte, as she placed a bottle of wine on the table,‘supper is ready whenever you are.’
“‘And you?’ asked Joannes.
“‘I don’t want any supper,’ said Caderousse.
“‘We dined so very late,’ hastily interposed La Carconte.
“‘Then it seems I am to eat alone,’ remarked the jeweller.
“‘Oh, we shall have the pleasure of waiting upon you,’ answered LaCarconte, with an eager attention she was not accustomed to manifesteven to guests who paid for what they took.
“From time to time Caderousse darted on his wife keen, searchingglances, but rapid as the lightning flash. The storm still continued.
“‘There, there,’ said La Carconte; ‘do you hear that? upon my word, youdid well to come back.’
“‘Nevertheless,’ replied the jeweller, ‘if by the time I have finishedmy supper the tempest has at all abated, I shall make another start.’
“‘It’s the mistral,’ said Caderousse, ‘and it will be sure to last tilltomorrow morning.’ He sighed heavily.
“‘Well,’ said the jeweller, as he placed himself at table, ‘all I cansay is, so much the worse for those who are abroad.’
“‘Yes,’ chimed in La Carconte, ‘they will have a wretched night of it.’
“The jeweller began eating his supper, and the woman, who was ordinarilyso querulous and indifferent to all who approached her, was suddenlytransformed into the most smiling and attentive hostess. Had the unhappyman on whom she lavished her assiduities been previously acquainted withher, so sudden an alteration might well have excited suspicion in hismind, or at least have greatly astonished him. Caderousse, meanwhile,continued to pace the room in gloomy silence, sedulously avoiding thesight of his guest; but as soon as the stranger had completed hisrepast, the agitated innkeeper went eagerly to the door and opened it.
“‘I believe the storm is over,’ said he.
“But as if to contradict his statement, at that instant a violent clapof thunder seemed to shake the house to its very foundation, while asudden gust of wind, mingled with rain, extinguished the lamp he held inhis hand.
“Trembling and awe-struck, Caderousse hastily shut the door and returnedto his guest, while La Carconte lighted a candle by the smoulderingashes that glimmered on the hearth.
“‘You must be tired,’ said she to the jeweller; ‘I have spread a pair ofwhite sheets on your bed; go up when you are ready, and sleep well.’
“Joannes stayed for a while to see whether the storm seemed to abate inits fury, but a brief space of time sufficed to assure him that, insteadof diminishing, the violence of the rain and thunder momentarilyincreased; resigning himself, therefore, to what seemed inevitable, hebade his host good-night, and mounted the stairs. He passed over my headand I heard the flooring creak beneath his footsteps. The quick, eagerglance of La Carconte followed him as he ascended, while Caderousse, onthe contrary, turned his back, and seemed most anxiously to avoid evenglancing at him.
“All these circumstances did not strike me as painfully at the time asthey have since done; in fact, all that had happened (with the exceptionof the story of the diamond, which certainly did wear an air ofimprobability), appeared natural enough, and called for neitherapprehension nor mistrust; but, worn out as I was with fatigue, andfully purposing to proceed onwards directly the tempest abated, Idetermined to obtain a few hours’ sleep. Overhead I could accuratelydistinguish every movement of the jeweller, who, after making the bestarrangements in his power for passing a comfortable night, threw himselfon his bed, and I could hear it creak and groan beneath his weight.
“Insensibly my eyelids grew heavy, deep sleep stole over me, and havingno suspicion of anything wrong, I sought not to shake it off. I lookedinto the kitchen once more and saw Caderousse sitting by the side of along table upon one of the low wooden stools which in country places arefrequently used instead of chairs; his back was turned towards me, sothat I could not see the expression of his countenance—neither should Ihave been able to do so had he been placed differently, as his head wasburied between his two hands. La Carconte continued to gaze on him forsome time, then shrugging her shoulders, she took her seat immediatelyopposite to him.
“At this moment the expiring embers threw up a fresh flame from thekindling of a piece of wood that lay near, and a bright light flashedover the room. La Carconte still kept her eyes fixed on her husband, butas he made no sign of changing his position, she extended her hard, bonyhand, and touched him on the forehead.
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“Caderousse shuddered. The woman’s lips seemed to move, as though shewere talking; but because she merely spoke in an undertone, or my senseswere dulled by sleep, I did not catch a word she uttered. Confusedsights and sounds seemed to float before me, and gradually I fell into adeep, heavy slumber. How long I had been in this unconscious state Iknow not, when I was suddenly aroused by the report of a pistol,followed by a fearful cry. Weak and tottering footsteps resounded acrossthe chamber above me, and the next instant a dull, heavy weight seemedto fall powerless on the staircase. I had not yet fully recoveredconsciousness, when again I heard groans, mingled with half-stifledcries, as if from persons engaged in a deadly struggle. A cry moreprolonged than the others and ending in a series of groans effectuallyroused me from my drowsy lethargy. Hastily raising myself on one arm, Ilooked around, but all was dark; and it seemed to me as if the rain musthave penetrated through the flooring of the room above, for some kind ofmoisture appeared to fall, drop by drop, upon my forehead, and when Ipassed my hand across my brow, I felt
that it was wet and clammy.
“To the fearful noises that had awakened me had succeeded the mostperfect silence—unbroken, save by the footsteps of a man walking aboutin the chamber above. The staircase creaked, he descended into the roombelow, approached the fire and lit a candle.
“The man was Caderousse—he was pale and his shirt was all bloody. Havingobtained the light, he hurried upstairs again, and once more I heard hisrapid and uneasy footsteps.
“A moment later he came down again, holding in his hand the smallshagreen case, which he opened, to assure himself it contained thediamond,—seemed to hesitate as to which pocket he should put it in,then, as if dissatisfied with the security of either pocket, hedeposited it in his red handkerchief, which he carefully rolled roundhis head.
“After this he took from his cupboard the bank-notes and gold he had putthere, thrust the one into the pocket of his trousers, and the otherinto that of his waistcoat, hastily tied up a small bundle of linen, andrushing towards the door, disappeared in the darkness of the night.
“Then all became clear and manifest to me, and I reproached myself withwhat had happened, as though I myself had done the guilty deed. Ifancied that I still heard faint moans, and imagining that theunfortunate jeweller might not be quite dead, I determined to go to hisrelief, by way of atoning in some slight degree, not for the crime I hadcommitted, but for that which I had not endeavored to prevent. For thispurpose I applied all the strength I possessed to force an entrance fromthe cramped spot in which I lay to the adjoining room. The poorlyfastened boards which alone divided me from it yielded to my efforts,and I found myself in the house. Hastily snatching up the lightedcandle, I hurried to the staircase; about midway a body was lying quiteacross the stairs. It was that of La Carconte. The pistol I had heardhad doubtless been fired at her. The shot had frightfully lacerated herthroat, leaving two gaping wounds from which, as well as the mouth, theblood was pouring in floods. She was stone dead. I strode past her, andascended to the sleeping chamber, which presented an appearance of thewildest disorder. The furniture had been knocked over in the deadlystruggle that had taken place there, and the sheets, to which theunfortunate jeweller had doubtless clung, were dragged across the room.The murdered man lay on the floor, his head leaning against the wall,and about him was a pool of blood which poured forth from three largewounds in his breast; there was a fourth gash, in which a long tableknife was plunged up to the handle.
“I stumbled over some object; I stooped to examine—it was the secondpistol, which had not gone off, probably from the powder being wet. Iapproached the jeweller, who was not quite dead, and at the sound of myfootsteps and the creaking of the floor, he opened his eyes, fixed themon me with an anxious and inquiring gaze, moved his lips as thoughtrying to speak, then, overcome by the effort, fell back and expired.
“This appalling sight almost bereft me of my senses, and finding that Icould no longer be of service to anyone in the house, my only desire wasto fly. I rushed towards the staircase, clutching my hair, and utteringa groan of horror.
“Upon reaching the room below, I found five or six custom-houseofficers, and two or three gendarmes—all heavily armed. They threwthemselves upon me. I made no resistance; I was no longer master of mysenses. When I strove to speak, a few inarticulate sounds alone escapedmy lips.
“As I noticed the significant manner in which the whole party pointed tomy blood-stained garments, I involuntarily surveyed myself, and then Idiscovered that the thick warm drops that had so bedewed me as I laybeneath the staircase must have been the blood of La Carconte. I pointedto the spot where I had concealed myself.
“‘What does he mean?’ asked a gendarme.
“One of the officers went to the place I directed.
“‘He means,’ replied the man upon his return, ‘that he got in that way;’and he showed the hole I had made when I broke through.
“Then I saw that they took me for the assassin. I recovered force andenergy enough to free myself from the hands of those who held me, whileI managed to stammer forth:
“‘I did not do it! Indeed, indeed I did not!’
“A couple of gendarmes held the muzzles of their carbines against mybreast.
“‘Stir but a step,’ said they, ‘and you are a dead man.’
“‘Why should you threaten me with death,’ cried I, ‘when I have alreadydeclared my innocence?’
“‘Tush, tush,’ cried the men; ‘keep your innocent stories to tell to thejudge at Nîmes. Meanwhile, come along with us; and the best advice wecan give you is to do so unresistingly.’
“Alas, resistance was far from my thoughts. I was utterly overpowered bysurprise and terror; and without a word I suffered myself to behandcuffed and tied to a horse’s tail, and thus they took me to Nîmes.
“I had been tracked by a customs-officer, who had lost sight of me nearthe tavern; feeling certain that I intended to pass the night there, hehad returned to summon his comrades, who just arrived in time to hearthe report of the pistol, and to take me in the midst of suchcircumstantial proofs of my guilt as rendered all hopes of proving myinnocence utterly futile. One only chance was left me, that ofbeseeching the magistrate before whom I was taken to cause every inquiryto be made for the Abbé Busoni, who had stopped at the inn of the Pontdu Gard on that morning.
“If Caderousse had invented the story relative to the diamond, and thereexisted no such person as the Abbé Busoni, then, indeed, I was lost pastredemption, or, at least, my life hung upon the feeble chance ofCaderousse himself being apprehended and confessing the whole truth.
“Two months passed away in hopeless expectation on my part, while I mustdo the magistrate the justice to say that he used every means to obtaininformation of the person I declared could exculpate me if he would.Caderousse still evaded all pursuit, and I had resigned myself to whatseemed my inevitable fate. My trial was to come on at the approachingassizes; when, on the 8th of September—that is to say, precisely threemonths and five days after the events which had perilled my life—theAbbé Busoni, whom I never ventured to believe I should see, presentedhimself at the prison doors, saying he understood one of the prisonerswished to speak to him; he added, that having learned at Marseilles theparticulars of my imprisonment, he hastened to comply with my desire.
“You may easily imagine with what eagerness I welcomed him, and howminutely I related the whole of what I had seen and heard. I felt somedegree of nervousness as I entered upon the history of the diamond, but,to my inexpressible astonishment, he confirmed it in every particular,and to my equal surprise, he seemed to place entire belief in all Isaid.
“And then it was that, won by his mild charity, seeing that he wasacquainted with all the habits and customs of my own country, andconsidering also that pardon for the only crime of which I was reallyguilty might come with a double power from lips so benevolent and kind,I besought him to receive my confession, under the seal of which Irecounted the Auteuil affair in all its details, as well as every othertransaction of my life. That which I had done by the impulse of my bestfeelings produced the same effect as though it had been the result ofcalculation. My voluntary confession of the assassination at Auteuilproved to him that I had not committed that of which I stood accused.When he quitted me, he bade me be of good courage, and to rely upon hisdoing all in his power to convince my judges of my innocence.
“I had speedy proofs that the excellent abbé was engaged in my behalf,for the rigors of my imprisonment were alleviated by many triflingthough acceptable indulgences, and I was told that my trial was to bepostponed to the assizes following those now being held.
“In the interim it pleased Providence to cause the apprehension ofCaderousse, who was discovered in some distant country, and brought backto France, where he made a full confession, refusing to make the fact ofhis wife’s having suggested and arranged the murder any excuse for hisown guilt. The wretched man was sentenced to the galleys for life, and Iwas immediately set at liberty.”
“And then i
t was, I presume,” said Monte Cristo “that you came to me asthe bearer of a letter from the Abbé Busoni?”
“It was, your excellency; the benevolent abbé took an evident interestin all that concerned me.
“‘Your mode of life as a smuggler,’ said he to me one day, ‘will be theruin of you; if you get out, don’t take it up again.’
“‘But how,’ inquired I, ‘am I to maintain myself and my poor sister?’
“‘A person, whose confessor I am,’ replied he, ‘and who entertains ahigh regard for me, applied to me a short time since to procure him aconfidential servant. Would you like such a post? If so, I will give youa letter of introduction to him.’
“‘Oh, father,’ I exclaimed, ‘you are very good.’
“‘But you must swear solemnly that I shall never have reason to repentmy recommendation.’
“I extended my hand, and was about to pledge myself by any promise hewould dictate, but he stopped me.
“‘It is unnecessary for you to bind yourself by any vow,’ said he; ‘Iknow and admire the Corsican nature too well to fear you. Here, takethis,’ continued he, after rapidly writing the few lines I brought toyour excellency, and upon receipt of which you deigned to receive meinto your service, and proudly I ask whether your excellency has everhad cause to repent having done so?”
“No,” replied the count; “I take pleasure in saying that you have servedme faithfully, Bertuccio; but you might have shown more confidence inme.”
“I, your excellency?”
“Yes; you. How comes it, that having both a sister and an adopted son,you have never spoken to me of either?”
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“Alas, I have still to recount the most distressing period of my life.Anxious as you may suppose I was to behold and comfort my dear sister, Ilost no time in hastening to Corsica, but when I arrived at Rogliano Ifound a house of mourning, the consequences of a scene so horrible thatthe neighbors remember and speak of it to this day. Acting by my advice,my poor sister had refused to comply with the unreasonable demands ofBenedetto, who was continually tormenting her for money, as long as hebelieved there was a sou left in her possession. One morning hethreatened her with the severest consequences if she did not supply himwith what he desired, and disappeared and remained away all day, leavingthe kind-hearted Assunta, who loved him as if he were her own child, toweep over his conduct and bewail his absence. Evening came, and still,with all the patient solicitude of a mother, she watched for his return.
“As the eleventh hour struck, he entered with a swaggering air, attendedby two of the most dissolute and reckless of his boon companions. Shestretched out her arms to him, but they seized hold of her, and one ofthe three—none other than the accursed Benedetto exclaimed:
“‘Put her to torture and she’ll soon tell us where her money is.’
“It unfortunately happened that our neighbor, Wasilio, was at Bastia,leaving no person in his house but his wife; no human creature besidecould hear or see anything that took place within our dwelling. Two heldpoor Assunta, who, unable to conceive that any harm was intended to her,smiled in the face of those who were soon to become her executioners.The third proceeded to barricade the doors and windows, then returned,and the three united in stifling the cries of terror incited by thesight of these preparations, and then dragged Assunta feet foremosttowards the brazier, expecting to wring from her an avowal of where hersupposed treasure was secreted. In the struggle her clothes caught fire,and they were obliged to let go their hold in order to preservethemselves from sharing the same fate. Covered with flames, Assuntarushed wildly to the door, but it was fastened; she flew to the windows,but they were also secured; then the neighbors heard frightful shrieks;it was Assunta calling for help. The cries died away in groans, and nextmorning, as soon as Wasilio’s wife could muster up courage to ventureabroad, she caused the door of our dwelling to be opened by the publicauthorities, when Assunta, although dreadfully burnt, was found stillbreathing; every drawer and closet in the house had been forced open,and the money stolen. Benedetto never again appeared at Rogliano,neither have I since that day either seen or heard anything concerninghim.
“It was subsequently to these dreadful events that I waited on yourexcellency, to whom it would have been folly to have mentionedBenedetto, since all trace of him seemed entirely lost; or of my sister,since she was dead.”
“And in what light did you view the occurrence?” inquired Monte Cristo.
“As a punishment for the crime I had committed,” answered Bertuccio.“Oh, those Villeforts are an accursed race!”
“Truly they are,” murmured the count in a lugubrious tone.
“And now,” resumed Bertuccio, “your excellency may, perhaps, be able tocomprehend that this place, which I revisit for the first time—thisgarden, the actual scene of my crime—must have given rise to reflectionsof no very agreeable nature, and produced that gloom and depression ofspirits which excited the notice of your excellency, who was pleased toexpress a desire to know the cause. At this instant a shudder passesover me as I reflect that possibly I am now standing on the very gravein which lies M. de Villefort, by whose hand the ground was dug toreceive the corpse of his child.”
“Everything is possible,” said Monte Cristo, rising from the bench onwhich he had been sitting; “even,” he added in an inaudible voice, “eventhat the procureur be not dead. The Abbé Busoni did right to send you tome,” he went on in his ordinary tone, “and you have done well inrelating to me the whole of your history, as it will prevent my formingany erroneous opinions concerning you in future. As for that Benedetto,who so grossly belied his name, have you never made any effort to traceout whither he has gone, or what has become of him?”
“No; far from wishing to learn whither he has betaken himself, I shouldshun the possibility of meeting him as I would a wild beast. Thank God,I have never heard his name mentioned by any person, and I hope andbelieve he is dead.”
“Do not think so, Bertuccio,” replied the count; “for the wicked are notso easily disposed of, for God seems to have them under his specialwatch-care to make of them instruments of his vengeance.”
“So be it,” responded Bertuccio, “all I ask of heaven is that I maynever see him again. And now, your excellency,” he added, bowing hishead, “you know everything—you are my judge on earth, as the Almighty isin heaven; have you for me no words of consolation?”
“My good friend, I can only repeat the words addressed to you by theAbbé Busoni. Villefort merited punishment for what he had done to you,and, perhaps, to others. Benedetto, if still living, will become theinstrument of divine retribution in some way or other, and then be dulypunished in his turn. As far as you yourself are concerned, I see butone point in which you are really guilty. Ask yourself, wherefore, afterrescuing the infant from its living grave, you did not restore it to itsmother? There was the crime, Bertuccio—that was where you became reallyculpable.”
“True, excellency, that was the crime, the real crime, for in that Iacted like a coward. My first duty, directly I had succeeded inrecalling the babe to life, was to restore it to its mother; but, inorder to do so, I must have made close and careful inquiry, which would,in all probability, have led to my own apprehension; and I clung tolife, partly on my sister’s account, and partly from that feeling ofpride inborn in our hearts of desiring to come off untouched andvictorious in the execution of our vengeance. Perhaps, too, the naturaland instinctive love of life made me wish to avoid endangering my own.And then, again, I am not as brave and courageous as was my poorbrother.”
Bertuccio hid his face in his hands as he uttered these words, whileMonte Cristo fixed on him a look of inscrutable meaning. After a briefsilence, rendered still more solemn by the time and place, the countsaid, in a tone of melancholy wholly unlike his usual manner:
“In order to bring this conversation to a fitting termination (the lastwe shall ever hold upon this subject), I will repeat to you some words Ihave heard from the lips of the Abbé Buso
ni. For all evils there are tworemedies—time and silence. And now leave me, Monsieur Bertuccio, to walkalone here in the garden. The very circumstances which inflict on you,as a principal in the tragic scene enacted here, such painful emotions,are to me, on the contrary, a source of something like contentment, andserve but to enhance the value of this dwelling in my estimation. Thechief beauty of trees consists in the deep shadow of their umbrageousboughs, while fancy pictures a moving multitude of shapes and formsflitting and passing beneath that shade. Here I have a garden laid outin such a way as to afford the fullest scope for the imagination, andfurnished with thickly grown trees, beneath whose leafy screen avisionary like myself may conjure up phantoms at will. This to me, whoexpected but to find a blank enclosure surrounded by a straight wall,is, I assure you, a most agreeable surprise. I have no fear of ghosts,and I have never heard it said that so much harm had been done by thedead during six thousand years as is wrought by the living in a singleday. Retire within, Bertuccio, and tranquillize your mind. Should yourconfessor be less indulgent to you in your dying moments than you foundthe Abbé Busoni, send for me, if I am still on earth, and I will sootheyour ears with words that shall effectually calm and soothe your partingsoul ere it goes forth to traverse the ocean called eternity.”
Bertuccio bowed respectfully, and turned away, sighing heavily. MonteCristo, left alone, took three or four steps onwards, and murmured:
“Here, beneath this plane-tree, must have been where the infant’s gravewas dug. There is the little door opening into the garden. At thiscorner is the private staircase communicating with the sleepingapartment. There will be no necessity for me to make a note of theseparticulars, for there, before my eyes, beneath my feet, all around me,I have the plan sketched with all the living reality of truth.”
After making the tour of the garden a second time, the count re-enteredhis carriage, while Bertuccio, who perceived the thoughtful expressionof his master’s features, took his seat beside the driver withoututtering a word. The carriage proceeded rapidly towards Paris.
That same evening, upon reaching his abode in the Champs-Élysées, theCount of Monte Cristo went over the whole building with the air of onelong acquainted with each nook or corner. Nor, although preceding theparty, did he once mistake one door for another, or commit the smallesterror when choosing any particular corridor or staircase to conduct himto a place or suite of rooms he desired to visit. Ali was his principalattendant during this nocturnal survey. Having given various orders toBertuccio relative to the improvements and alterations he desired tomake in the house, the Count, drawing out his watch, said to theattentive Nubian:
“It is half-past eleven o’clock; Haydée will soon be here. Have theFrench attendants been summoned to await her coming?”
Ali extended his hands towards the apartments destined for the fairGreek, which were so effectually concealed by means of a tapestriedentrance, that it would have puzzled the most curious to have divinedtheir existence. Ali, having pointed to the apartments, held up threefingers of his right hand, and then, placing it beneath his head, shuthis eyes, and feigned to sleep.
“I understand,” said Monte Cristo, well acquainted with Ali’s pantomime;“you mean to tell me that three female attendants await their newmistress in her sleeping-chamber.”
Ali, with considerable animation, made a sign in the affirmative.
“Madame will be tired tonight,” continued Monte Cristo, “and will, nodoubt, wish to rest. Desire the French attendants not to weary her withquestions, but merely to pay their respectful duty and retire. You willalso see that the Greek servants hold no communication with those ofthis country.”
He bowed. Just at that moment voices were heard hailing the concierge.The gate opened, a carriage rolled down the avenue, and stopped at thesteps. The count hastily descended, presented himself at the alreadyopened carriage door, and held out his hand to a young woman, completelyenveloped in a green silk mantle heavily embroidered with gold. Sheraised the hand extended towards her to her lips, and kissed it with amixture of love and respect. Some few words passed between them in thatsonorous language in which Homer makes his gods converse. The youngwoman spoke with an expression of deep tenderness, while the countreplied with an air of gentle gravity.
Preceded by Ali, who carried a rose-colored flambeau in his hand, theyoung lady, who was no other than the lovely Greek who had been MonteCristo’s companion in Italy, was conducted to her apartments, while thecount retired to the pavilion reserved for himself. In another hourevery light in the house was extinguished, and it might have beenthought that all its inmates slept.
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