'Well, but, my good friend,' said St.Aubert, 'has nobody had courage to follow the sounds? If they had, they would probably have discovered who is the musician.' 'Yes, sir, they have followed them some way into the woods, but the music has still retreated, and seemed as distant as ever, and the people have at last been afraid of being led into harm, and would go no further.It is very seldom that I have heard these sounds so early in the evening.They usually come about midnight, when that bright planet, which is rising above the turret yonder, sets below the woods on the left.'
'What turret?' asked St.Aubert with quickness, 'I see none.'
'Your pardon, monsieur, you do see one indeed, for the moon shines full upon it;--up the avenue yonder, a long way off; the chateau it belongs to is hid among the trees.'
'Yes, my dear sir,' said Emily, pointing, 'don't you see something glitter above the dark woods? It is a fane, I fancy, which the rays fall upon.'
'O yes, I see what you mean; and who does the chateau belong to?'
'The Marquis de Villeroi was its owner,' replied La Voisin, emphatically.
'Ah!' said St.Aubert, with a deep sigh, 'are we then so near Le-Blanc!' He appeared much agitated.
'It used to be the Marquis's favourite residence,' resumed La Voisin, 'but he took a dislike to the place, and has not been there for many years.We have heard lately that he is dead, and that it is fallen into other hands.' St.Aubert, who had sat in deep musing, was roused by the last words.'Dead!' he exclaimed, 'Good God! when did he die?'
'He is reported to have died about five weeks since,' replied La Voisin.'Did you know the Marquis, sir?'
'This is very extraordinary!' said St.Aubert without attending to the question.'Why is it so, my dear sir?' said Emily, in a voice of timid curiosity.He made no reply, but sunk again into a reverie;and in a few moments, when he seemed to have recovered himself, asked who had succeeded to the estates.'I have forgot his title, monsieur,' said La Voisin; 'but my lord resides at Paris chiefly; Ihear no talk of his coming hither.'
'The chateau is shut up then, still?'
'Why, little better, sir; the old housekeeper, and her husband the steward, have the care of it, but they live generally in a cottage hard by.'
'The chateau is spacious, I suppose,' said Emily, 'and must be desolate for the residence of only two persons.'
'Desolate enough, mademoiselle,' replied La Voisin, 'I would not pass one night in the chateau, for the value of the whole domain.'
'What is that?' said St.Aubert, roused again from thoughtfulness.
As his host repeated his last sentence, a groan escaped from St.
Aubert, and then, as if anxious to prevent it from being noticed, he hastily asked La Voisin how long he had lived in this neighbourhood.
'Almost from my childhood, sir,' replied his host.
'You remember the late marchioness, then?' said St.Aubert in an altered voice.
'Ah, monsieur!--that I do well.There are many besides me who remember her.'
'Yes--' said St.Aubert, 'and I am one of those.'
'Alas, sir! you remember, then, a most beautiful and excellent lady.
She deserved a better fate.'
Tears stood in St.Aubert's eyes; 'Enough,' said he, in a voice almost stifled by the violence of his emotions,--'it is enough, my friend.'
Emily, though extremely surprised by her father's manner, forbore to express her feelings by any question.La Voisin began to apologize, but St.Aubert interrupted him; 'Apology is quite unnecessary,' said he, 'let us change the topic.You was speaking of the music we just now heard.'
'I was, monsieur--but hark!--it comes again; listen to that voice!'
They were all silent;
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose, like a stream of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was 'ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still, to be so displaced.**Milton.
In a few moments the voice died into air, and the instrument, which had been heard before, sounded in low symphony.St.Aubert now observed, that it produced a tone much more full and melodious than that of a guitar, and still more melancholy and soft than the lute.
They continued to listen, but the sounds returned no more.'This is strange!' said St.Aubert, at length interrupting the silence.'Very strange!' said Emily.'It is so,' rejoined La Voisin, and they were again silent.
After a long pause, 'It is now about eighteen years since I first heard that music,' said La Voisin; 'I remember it was on a fine summer's night, much like this, but later, that I was walking in the woods, and alone.I remember, too, that my spirits were very low, for one of my boys was ill, and we feared we should lose him.I had been watching at his bed-side all the evening while his mother slept;for she had sat up with him the night before.I had been watching, and went out for a little fresh air, the day had been very sultry.
