in the chapel of the castle,
attended by all the noble knights and ladies, who graced the court of
Baron de Brunne.'

Ludovico, having finished this story, laid aside the book, for he felt
drowsy, and, after putting more wood on the fire and taking another
glass of wine, he reposed himself in the arm-chair on the hearth. In
his dream he still beheld the chamber where he really was, and, once or
twice, started from imperfect slumbers, imagining he saw a man's face,
looking over the high back of his armchair. This idea had so strongly
impressed him, that, when he raised his eyes, he almost expected to
meet other eyes, fixed upon his own, and he quitted his seat and looked
behind the chair, before he felt perfectly convinced, that no person was
there.

Thus closed the hour.

CHAPTER VII

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber;
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
SHAKESPEARE

The Count, who had slept little during the night, rose early, and,
anxious to speak with Ludovico, went to the north apartment; but, the
outer door having been fastened, on the preceding night, he was obliged
to knock loudly for admittance. Neither the knocking, or his voice was
heard; but, considering the distance of this door from the bed-room, and
that Ludovico, wearied with watching, had probably fallen into a deep
sleep, the Count was not surprised on receiving no answer, and, leaving
the door, he went down to walk in his grounds.

It was a gray autumnal morning. The sun, rising over Provence, gave only
a feeble light, as his rays struggled through the vapours that ascended
from the sea, and floated heavily over the wood-tops, which were now
varied with many a mellow tint of autumn. The storm was passed, but the
waves were yet violently agitated, and their course was traced by long
lines of foam, while not a breeze fluttered in the sails of the vessels,
near the shore, that were weighing anchor to depart. The still gloom of
the hour was pleasing to the Count, and he pursued his way through the
woods, sunk in deep thought.

Emily also rose at an early hour, and took her customary walk along the
brow of the promontory, that overhung the Mediterranean. Her mind was
now not occupied with the occurrences of the chateau, and Valancourt
was the subject of her mournful thoughts; whom she had not yet taught
herself to consider with indifference, thoug