far more
Than for its present: there's a germ in her
Of something noble, much beyond her now:
Chance gleams betray it, though she knows it not.
This evening must decide it, come what will.
SCENE XVII.—The inn; the room which had been JULIAN'S. STEPHEN, Host, and Hostess. Wine on the table
Stephen.
Here, my good lady, let me fill your glass;
Then send the bottle on, please, to your husband.
Hostess.
I thank you, sir; I hope you like the wine;
My husband's choice is praised. I cannot say
I am a judge myself.
Host.
I'm confident
It needs but to be tasted.
Stephen
(tasting critically, then nodding).
That is wine!
Let me congratulate you, my good sir,
Upon your exquisite judgment!
Host.
Thank you, sir.
Stephen
(to the Hostess).
And so this man, you say, was here until
The night the count was murdered: did he leave
Before or after that?
Hostess.
I cannot tell;
He left, I know, before it was discovered.
In the middle of the storm, like one possessed,
He rushed into the street, half tumbling me
Headlong down stairs, and never came again.
He had paid his bill that morning, luckily;
So joy go with him! Well, he was an odd one!
Stephen.
What was he like, fair Hostess?
Hostess.
Tall and dark,
And with a lowering look about his brows.
He seldom spoke, but, when he did, was civil.
One queer thing was, he always wore his hat,
Indoors as well as out. I dare not say
He murdered Count Nembroni; but it was strange
He always sat at that same window there,
And looked into the street. 'Tis not as if
There were much traffic in the village now;
These are changed times; but I have seen the day—
Stephen.
Excuse me; you were saying that the man
Sat at the window—
Hostess.
Yes; even after dark
He would sit on, and never call for lights.
The first night, I brought candles, as of course;
He let me set them on the table, true;
But soon's my back was turned, he put them out.
Stephen.
Where is the lady?
Hostess.
That's the strangest thing
Of all the story: she has disappeared,
As well as he. There lay the count, stone-dead,
White as my apron. The whole house was empty,
Just as I told you.
Stephen.
Has no search been made?
Host.
The closest search; a thousand pieces offered
For any information that should lead
To the murderer's capture. I believe his brother,
Who is his heir, they say, is still in town,
Seeking in vain for some intelligence.
Stephen.
'Tis very odd; the oddest thing I've heard
For a long time. Send me a pen and ink;
I have to write some letters.
Hostess (rising).
Thank you, sir,
For your kind entertainment.
[Exeunt Host and Hostess.]
Stephen.
We've found the badger's hole; we'll draw him next. He couldn't have gone far with her and not be seen. My life on it, there are plenty of holes and corners in the old house over the way. Run off with a wench! Holy brother Julian! Contemptuous brother Julian! Stand-by-thyself brother Julian! Run away with a wench at last! Well, there's a downfall! He'll be for marrying her on the sly, and away!—I know
