times she
was on the point of mentioning what she had seen, but the fear of giving
pain to the Count, and the dread of his ridicule, restrained her; and,
awaiting in anxious expectation the event of Ludovico's intrepidity, she
determined that her future silence should depend upon it.

When the party had separated for the night, and the Count retired to
his dressing-room, the remembrance of the desolate scenes he had lately
witnessed in his own mansion deeply affected him, but at length he
was aroused from his reverie and his silence. 'What music is that I
hear?'--said he suddenly to his valet, 'Who plays at this late hour?'

The man made no reply, and the Count continued to listen, and then
added, 'That is no common musician; he touches the instrument with a
delicate hand; who is it, Pierre?'

'My lord!' said the man, hesitatingly.

'Who plays that instrument?' repeated the Count.

'Does not your lordship know, then?' said the valet.

'What mean you?' said the Count, somewhat sternly.

'Nothing, my Lord, I meant nothing,' rejoined the man
submissively--'Only--that music--goes about the house at midnight often,
and I thought your lordship might have heard it before.'

'Music goes about the house at midnight! Poor fellow!--does nobody dance
to the music, too?'

'It is not in the chateau, I believe, my Lord; the sounds come from the
woods, they say, though they seem so near;--but then a spirit can do any
thing!'

'Ah, poor fellow!' said the Count, 'I perceive you are as silly as the
rest of them; to-morrow, you will be convinced of your ridiculous error.
But hark!--what voice is that?'

'O my Lord! that is the voice we often hear with the music.'

'Often!' said the Count, 'How often, pray? It is a very fine one.'

'Why, my Lord, I myself have not heard it more than two or three times,
but there are those who have lived here longer, that have heard it often
enough.'

'What a swell was that!' exclaimed the Count, as he still listened, 'And
now, what a dying cadence! This is surely something more than mortal!'

'That is what they say, my Lord,' said the valet; 'they say it is
nothing mortal, that utters it; and if I might say my thoughts'--

'Peace!' said the Count, and he listened till the strain died away.

'This is strange!' said he, as he turned from the window, 'Close the
casements, Pierre.'

Pierre obeyed, and the Count soon after dismissed him, but did not so
soon lose the remembrance of the musi