He had at the same time announced her name to herself and the world, and
she not only had a name, but she was a princess; she took a rank in the
company, and Count Paulo and Carlo had no reason to be ashamed of her.
But where was Carlo? At the thought of him this feeling of effervescing
pride vanished from the young maiden's heart; she even forgot that she
was a princess, to remember only that Carlo, her music-teacher, had
promised her to be present at this festival, and to wonder that she
could not discover him in this gay and confused assemblage.
She did not remark that, since her appearance, a deep stillness had
supervened in the hall, that all eyes were upon her, that people
secretly whispered to each other, and gave utterance to murmured
expressions of astonishment and delight; she saw not how the beauties
here and there turned pale and indignantly bit their proud lips; she saw
not how the eyes of the men glowed and flashed, and what eagerly lusting
glances the cardinals and princes of the Church cast upon her.
She was so unconstrained, this charming child, she knew not how handsome
she was. But she was to-day of a wonderfully touching beauty. Like a
white and delicate lily stood she there in the heavy white satin robe
that enveloped her graceful form, and the brilliants that adorned her
hair, neck, and arms, shone and sparkled like sun-lighted dew-drops in
the calyx of the flower. So beautiful was she that even Cardinal Bernis
stood speechless and as if blinded before her, finding no expression for
his joyful surprise and astonishment.
"Oh," at length he smilingly said, with a low bow, "I shall have to
quarrel with Count Paulo! He promised us the presence of a mortal woman,
and now he leads into our circle a divinity who must look down upon us
poor human beings with a smile of contempt."
Natalie smiled. "I know," said she, with her clear, sweet, childish
voice--"I know that Cardinal Bernis is a poet, and therefore it will not
be very difficult for him to change a young maiden into a divinity. Nor
is this the first time he has done so! I remember a lovely poem of his,
the complaint of a shepherd, who considers the object of his love a
divinity because she is so beautiful, and at last she proves to be no
divinity, but on the contrary a regular little quarrelsome wrangler,
who has nothing beautiful about her but her hands and face. Take care,
cardinal, that it does not prove with you and me as with the shepherd in
your charming poem!"
She said that with such childish ingenuousness, and in so cheerful and
jesting a tone, that the cardinal listened to her as if intoxicated,
and with unconcealed admiration he looked into that delicate, childishly
pure face, over which no trace of sorrow nor any sign of care had ever
yet passed.