A great pleasure was in store for Gilbert at his awakening; he rose as the sun began to appear, and having dressed, hastened to the window to see what view it offered.
The rotunda which had been assigned to him for a lodging formed the entire upper story of a turret which flanked one of the angles of the castle.This turret, and a great square tower situated at the other extremity of the same front, commanded a view of the north, and from this side the rock descended perpendicularly, forming an imposing precipice of three hundred feet.When Gilbert's first glance plunged into the abyss where a bluish vapor floated, which the rising sun pierced with its golden arrows, the spectacle transported him.To have a precipice under his window, was a novelty which gave him infinite joy.The precipice was his domain, his property, and his eyes took possession of it.He could not cease gazing at the steep, wall-like rocks, the sides of which were cut by transverse belts of brush-wood and dwarf trees.It was long since he had experienced such a lively sensation, and he felt that if his heart was old, his senses were entirely new.The fact is that at this moment, Gilbert, the grave philosopher, was as happy as a child, and in listening to the solemn murmur of the Rhine, with which mingled the croaking of a raven and the shrill cries of the martins, who with restless wings grazed the abutments of the ancient turret, he persuaded himself that the river raised its voice to salute him, that the birds were serenading him, and that all nature celebrated a fete of which he was the hero.
He could hardly tear himself from his dear window to breakfast, and he was again engaged in contemplation when M.Leminof entered the room.He did not hear him, and it was not until the Count had coughed three times that he turned his head.Perceiving the enemy, Gilbert started, but quickly recovered himself.The nervous start, however, which he had not been able to conceal, caused the Count to smile, and his smile embarrassed Gilbert.He felt that M.Leminof would regulate his conduct to him upon the impression he should receive in this first interview, and he determined to keep close watch upon himself.
Count Kostia was a man of middle age, very tall and well made, broad-shouldered, with lofty bearing, a forehead stern and haughty, a nose like the beak of a bird of prey, a head carried high and slightly backwards, large, wide open gray eyes which shot glances at once piercing and restless, an expressive face regularly cut, in which Gilbert found little to criticise except that the eyebrows were a little too bushy, and the cheek bones a little too prominent; but what did not please him was, that M.Leminof remained standing while praying him to be seated, and as Gilbert made some objections the Count cut him short by an imperious gesture and a frown.
"Monsieur le Comte," said Gilbert mentally, "you do not leave this room until you have been seated too!""My dear sir," said the Count, pacing the room with folded arms, "you have a very warm friend in Dr.Lerins.He sets a great value upon your merit; he has even been obliging enough to give me to understand that I was quite unworthy of having such a treasure of wisdom and erudition in my house.He has also expressly recommended me to treat you with the tenderest consideration; he has made me feel that I am responsible for you to the world, and that the world will hold me to a strict account.You are very fortunate, sir, in having such good friends, they are among Heaven's choicest blessings."Gilbert made no answer but bit his lips and looked at the floor.
"M.Lerins," continued the Count, "informs me also, that you are both timid and proud, and he desires me to deal gently with you.
He pretends that you are capable of suffering much without complaint.This is an accomplishment which is uncommon nowadays.
But what I regret is, that our excellent friend M.Lerins apparently considers me a sort of human wolf.I should be very unhappy if I inspired you with fear." Then, turning half round towards Gilbert: "Let us see, look at me well; have I claws at the ends of my fingers?"Poor Gilbert inwardly cursed M.Lerins and his indiscreet zeal.
"Oh, Monsieur le Comte," replied he in his frankest tones and with the most tranquil air he could command, "I never suspect claws in a fellow-creature;--only when occasion makes me feel them, I cry out loudly and defend myself."The sound of Gilbert's voice, and the expression of his face, struck M.Leminof.It was his turn if not to start (he seldom started) at least to be astonished.He looked at him an instant in silence, and then resumed in a more sardonic tone:
"This is not all; M.Lerins (ah! what an admirable friend you have there!) desires also to inform me that you are, sir, what is called nowadays, a beautiful soul.What is 'a beautiful soul?' I know nothing of the species." While thus speaking he seemed to be looking by turns for a fly on the ceiling and a pin on the floor.
"I have old-fashioned ideas of everything, and I do not understand the vocabulary of my age.I know a beautiful horse very well or a beautiful woman;--but A BEAUTIFUL SOUL! Do you know how to explain to me, sir, what 'this beautiful soul' is?"Gilbert did not answer a word.He was entirely occupied in addressing to Heaven the prayer of the philosopher: "Oh, my God!
save me from my friends, and I will take care of my enemies." "My questions seem to you perhaps a little indiscreet," pursued M.
Leminof; "but M.Lerins is responsible for them.His last letter caused me great uneasiness.He introduces you to me as an exceptionable being; it is natural that I should wish to enlighten myself, for I detest mysteries and surprises.I once heard of a little Abyssinian prince, who to testify his gratitude to the missionary who had converted him, sent to him, as a present, a large chest of scented wood.When the missionary opened the chest, he found in it a pretty living Nile crocodile.Fancy his delight!
