When the ball broke up, she retired to her apartment, but not to
sleep. Joy is as restless as anxiety or sorrow. She seemed to have
entered upon a new state of existence;--those fine springs of
affection which had hitherto lain concealed, were now touched, and
yielded to her a happiness more exalted than any her imagination had
ever painted. She reflected on the tranquillity of her past life, and
comparing it with the emotions of the present hour, exulted in the
difference. All her former pleasures now appeared insipid; she
wondered that they ever had power to affect her, and that she had
endured with content the dull uniformity to which she had been
condemned. It was now only that she appeared to live. Absorbed in the
single idea of being beloved, her imagination soared into the regions
of romantic bliss, and bore her high above the possibility of evil.
Since she was beloved by Hippolitus, she could only be happy.
From this state of entranced delight, she was awakened by the sound of
music immediately under her window. It was a lute touched by a
masterly hand. After a wild and melancholy symphony, a voice of more
than magic expression swelled into an air so pathetic and tender, that
it seemed to breathe the very soul of love. The chords of the lute
were struck in low and sweet accompaniment. Julia listened, and
distinguished the following words;
SONNET
Still is the night-breeze!--not a lonely sound
Steals through the silence of this dreary hour;
O'er these high battlements Sleep reigns profound,
And sheds on all, his sweet oblivious power.
On all but me--I vainly ask his dews
To steep in short forgetfulness my cares.
Th' affrighted god still flies when Love pursues,
Still--still denies the wretched lover's prayers.
An interval of silence followed, and the air was repeated; after which
the music was heard no more. If before Julia believed that she was
loved by Hippolitus, she was now confirmed in the sweet reality. But
sleep at length fell upon her senses, and the airy forms of ideal
bliss no longer fleeted before her imagination. Morning came, and she
arose light and refreshed. How different were her present sensations
from those of the preceding day. Her anxiety had now evaporated in
joy, and she experienced that airy dance of spirits which accumulates
delight from every object; and with a power like the touch of
enchantment, can transform a gloomy desert into a smiling Eden. She
flew to the breakfast-room, scarcely conscious of motion; but, as she
entered it, a soft confusion overcame her; she blushed, and almost
feared to meet the eyes of Vereza. She was presently relieved,
however, for the Count was not there. The company assembled--Julia
watched the entrance of every person with painful anxiety, but he for
whom she looked did not appear. Surprised and uneasy, she fixed her
eyes on the door, and whenever it opened, her heart beat with an
expectation which was as often checked by disappointment. In spite of
all her efforts, her vivacity sunk into languor, and she then
perceived that love may produce other sensations than those of
delight.