hew nothing,
but damp walls and decaying furniture. I have been so much engaged
since I came to the chateau, that I have not looked into them till now.
Remember, Ludovico, to tell the housekeeper, to-morrow, to throw open
these windows. The damask hangings are dropping to pieces, I will have
them taken down, and this antique furniture removed.'

'Dear sir!' said Henri, 'here is an arm-chair so massy with gilding,
that it resembles one of the state chairs at the Louvre, more then any
thing else.'

'Yes,' said the Count, stopping a moment to survey it, 'there is a
history belonging to that chair, but I have not time to tell it.--Let us
pass on. This suite runs to a greater extent than I had imagined; it is
many years since I was in them. But where is the bed-room you speak of,
Ludovico?--these are only anti-chambers to the great drawing-room. I
remember them in their splendour!'

'The bed, my Lord,' replied Ludovico, 'they told me, was in a room that
opens beyond the saloon, and terminates the suite.'

'O, here is the saloon,' said the Count, as they entered the spacious
apartment, in which Emily and Dorothee had rested. He here stood for
a moment, surveying the reliques of faded grandeur, which it
exhibited--the sumptuous tapestry--the long and low sophas of velvet,
with frames heavily carved and gilded--the floor inlaid with small
squares of fine marble, and covered in the centre with a piece of
very rich tapestry-work--the casements of painted glass, and the large
Venetian mirrors, of a size and quality, such as at that period France
could not make, which reflected, on every side, the spacious apartment.
These had formerly also reflected a gay and brilliant scene, for this
had been the state-room of the chateau, and here the Marchioness had
held the assemblies, that made part of the festivities of her nuptials.
If the wand of a magician could have recalled the vanished groups, many
of them vanished even from the earth! that once had passed over these
polished mirrors, what a varied and contrasted picture would they have
exhibited with the present! Now, instead of a blaze of lights, and
a splendid and busy crowd, they reflected only the rays of the one
glimmering lamp, which the Count held up, and which scarcely served to
shew the three forlorn figures, that stood surveying the room, and the
spacious and dusky walls around them.

'Ah!' said the Count to Henri, awaking from his deep reverie, 'how the
scene is chang