 | Lucile |  |
XVI.
He rush'd on. He tore
His path through the thicket. He reach'd the inn door,
Roused the yet drowsing porter, reluctant to rise,
And inquired for the Countess. The man rubb'd his eyes.
The Countess was gone. And the Duke?
His path through the thicket. He reach'd the inn door,
Roused the yet drowsing porter, reluctant to rise,
And inquired for the Countess. The man rubb'd his eyes.
The Countess was gone. And the Duke?
The man stared
A sleepy inquiry.
A sleepy inquiry.
With accents that scared
The man's dull sense awake, ‘He, the stranger,’ he cried,
‘Who had been there that night!’
The man's dull sense awake, ‘He, the stranger,’ he cried,
‘Who had been there that night!’
The man grinn'd, and replied,
With a vacant intelligence, ‘He, oh ay, ay!
‘He went after the lady.’
With a vacant intelligence, ‘He, oh ay, ay!
‘He went after the lady.’
No further reply
Could he give. Alfred Vargrave demanded no more,
Flung a coin to the man, and so turn'd from the door.
‘What! the Duke then the night in that lone inn had pass'd?
‘In that lone inn—with her!’ Was that look he had cast
When they met in the forest, that look which remain'd
On his mind with its terrible smile, thus explain'd?
152
Flung a coin to the man, and so turn'd from the door.
‘What! the Duke then the night in that lone inn had pass'd?
‘In that lone inn—with her!’ Was that look he had cast
When they met in the forest, that look which remain'd
On his mind with its terrible smile, thus explain'd?
| Lucile | |