e
house. After the horn blew at six, the guests who had come from a
distance rapidly dispersed (their horses were already waiting), for they
were anxious to pass the fifteen miles of forest before nightfall. Those
on foot, and those ladies who had come in covered waggons, stayed till
next morning, as they could not travel so speedily. By seven or eight
the castle courtyard was comparatively empty, and the Baron, weary from
the mere bodily efforts of saying farewell to so many, had flung himself
at full length on a couch in the drawing-room.

During the whole of this time Felix had not obtained a single moment
with Aurora; her time, when not occupied in attending to the guests, was
always claimed by Lord Durand. Felix, after the short-lived but pure
pleasure he had enjoyed in watching her upon the grass-grown stage, had
endured three days of misery. He was among the crowd, he was in the
castle itself, he sat at table with the most honoured visitors, yet he
was distinct from all. There was no sympathy between them and him. The
games, the dancing, the feasting and laughter, the ceaseless singing and
shouting, and jovial jostling, jarred upon him.

The boundless interest the people took in the combats, and especially
that of the thirty, seemed to him a strange and inexplicable phenomenon.
It did not excite him in the least; he could turn his back upon it
without hesitation. He would, indeed, have left the crowd, and spent the
day in the forest, or on the hills, but he could not leave Aurora. He
must be near her; he must see her, though he was miserable. Now he
feared that the last moment would come, and that he should not exchange
a word with her.

He could not, with any show of pretext, prolong his stay beyond the
sunset; all were already gone, with the exceptions mentioned. It would
be against etiquette to remain longer, unless specially invited, and he
was not specially invited. Yet he lingered, and lingered. His horse was
ready below; the groom, weary of holding the bridle, had thrown it over
an iron hook in the yard, and gone about other business. The sun
perceptibly declined, and the shadow of the beeches of the forest began
to descend the grassy slope. Still he stayed, restlessly moving, now in
the dining chamber, now in the hall, now at the foot of the staircase,
with an unpleasant feeling that the servants looked at him curiously,
and were watching him.

Oliver had gone long since, riding with his new friend Lo