She had dismissed the grace of modesty, but
then she knew perfectly well how to manage the stare of assurance; her
manners had little of the tempered sweetness, which is necessary to
render the female character interesting, but she could occasionally
throw into them an affectation of spirits, which seemed to triumph over
every person, who approached her. In the country, however, she generally
affected an elegant languor, that persuaded her almost to faint,
when her favourite read to her a story of fictitious sorrow; but
her countenance suffered no change, when living objects of distress
solicited her charity, and her heart beat with no transport to the
thought of giving them instant relief;--she was a stranger to the
highest luxury, of which, perhaps, the human mind can be sensible, for
her benevolence had never yet called smiles upon the face of misery.
In the evening, the Count, with all his family, except the Countess and
Mademoiselle Bearn, went to the woods to witness the festivity of the
peasants. The scene was in a glade, where the trees, opening, formed a
circle round the turf they highly overshadowed; between their branches,
vines, loaded with ripe clusters, were hung in gay festoons; and,
beneath, were tables, with fruit, wine, cheese and other rural
fare,--and seats for the Count and his family. At a little distance,
were benches for the elder peasants, few of whom, however, could forbear
to join the jocund dance, which began soon after sun-set, when several
of sixty tripped it with almost as much glee and airy lightness, as
those of sixteen.
The musicians, who sat carelessly on the grass, at the foot of a tree,
seemed inspired by the sound of their own instruments, which were
chiefly flutes and a kind of long guitar. Behind, stood a boy,
flourishing a tamborine, and dancing a solo, except that, as he
sometimes gaily tossed the instrument, he tripped among the other
dancers, when his antic gestures called forth a broader laugh, and
heightened the rustic spirit of the scene.
The Count was highly delighted with the happiness he witnessed, to which
his bounty had largely contributed, and the Lady Blanche joined the
dance with a young gentleman of her father's party. Du Pont requested
Emily's hand, but her spirits were too much depressed, to permit her to
engage in the present festivity, which called to her remembrance that
of the preceding year, when St. Aubert was living, and of the melancholy
scenes, which had immediately followed it.
Overcome by these recollections, she, at length, left the spot, and
walked slowly into the woods, where the softened music, floating at a
distance, soothed her melancholy mind. The moon threw a mellow light
among the foliage; the air was balmy and cool, and Emily, lost in
thought, strolled on, without observing whither, till she perceived the
sounds sinking afar off, and an awful stillness round her, except that,
sometimes, the nightingale beguiled the silence with Liquid notes, that close the eye of day.