The Count, meanwhile, had returned to the supper-room, whither those of the party, who had attended him to the north apartment, had retreated, upon hearing Dorothee's scream, and who were now earnest in their enquiries concerning those chambers.The Count rallied his guests on their precipitate retreat, and on the superstitious inclination which had occasioned it, and this led to the question, Whether the spirit, after it has quitted the body, is ever permitted to revisit the earth; and if it is, whether it was possible for spirits to become visible to the sense.The Baron was of opinion, that the first was probable, and the last was possible, and he endeavoured to justify this opinion by respectable authorities, both ancient and modern, which he quoted.The Count, however, was decidedly against him, and a long conversation ensued, in which the usual arguments on these subjects were on both sides brought forward with skill, and discussed with candour, but without converting either party to the opinion of his opponent.The effect of their conversation on their auditors was various.Though the Count had much the superiority of the Baron in point of argument, he had considerably fewer adherents; for that love, so natural to the human mind, of whatever is able to distend its faculties with wonder and astonishment, attached the majority of the company to the side of the Baron; and, though many of the Count's propositions were unanswerable, his opponents were inclined to believe this the consequence of their own want of knowledge, on so abstracted a subject, rather than that arguments did not exist, which were forcible enough to conquer his.
Blanche was pale with attention, till the ridicule in her father's glance called a blush upon her countenance, and she then endeavoured to forget the superstitious tales she had been told in her convent.
Meanwhile, Emily had been listening with deep attention to the discussion of what was to her a very interesting question, and, remembering the appearance she had witnessed in the apartment of the late Marchioness, she was frequently chilled with awe.Several times she was on the point of mentioning what she had seen, but the fear of giving pain to the Count, and the dread of his ridicule, restrained her; and, awaiting in anxious expectation the event of Ludovico's intrepidity, she determined that her future silence should depend upon it.
When the party had separated for the night, and the Count retired to his dressing-room, the remembrance of the desolate scenes he had lately witnessed in his own mansion deeply affected him, but at length he was aroused from his reverie and his silence.'What music is that I hear?'--said he suddenly to his valet, 'Who plays at this late hour?'
The man made no reply, and the Count continued to listen, and then added, 'That is no common musician; he touches the instrument with a delicate hand; who is it, Pierre?'
'My lord!' said the man, hesitatingly.
'Who plays that instrument?' repeated the Count.
'Does not your lordship know, then?' said the valet.
'What mean you?' said the Count, somewhat sternly.
'Nothing, my Lord, I meant nothing,' rejoined the man submissively--'Only--that music--goes about the house at midnight often, and Ithought your lordship might have heard it before.'
'Music goes about the house at midnight! Poor fellow!--does nobody dance to the music, too?'
'It is not in the chateau, I believe, my Lord; the sounds come from the woods, they say, though they seem so near;--but then a spirit can do any thing!'
'Ah, poor fellow!' said the Count, 'I perceive you are as silly as the rest of them; to-morrow, you will be convinced of your ridiculous error.But hark!--what voice is that?'
'O my Lord! that is the voice we often hear with the music.'
'Often!' said the Count, 'How often, pray? It is a very fine one.'
'Why, my Lord, I myself have not heard it more than two or three times, but there are those who have lived here longer, that have heard it often enough.'
'What a swell was that!' exclaimed the Count, as he still listened, 'And now, what a dying cadence! This is surely something more than mortal!'
'That is what they say, my Lord,' said the valet; 'they say it is nothing mortal, that utters it; and if I might say my thoughts'--'Peace!' said the Count, and he listened till the strain died away.
'This is strange!' said he, as he turned from the window, 'Close the casements, Pierre.'
Pierre obeyed, and the Count soon after dismissed him, but did not so soon lose the remembrance of the music, which long vibrated in his fancy in tones of melting sweetness, while surprise and perplexity engaged his thoughts.
