Why, Ma'mselle, said he, you had not been gone long before the Marquis arrived, and Monsieur La Motte then found out you was fled. Upon this a great rout there was, and he talked a great deal with the Marquis.
Speak louder, said Adeline, I cannot hear you.
Oh! heavens! interrupted Adeline, What voice is this? It is not Peter's. For God's sake tell me who you are, and whither I am going?
You'll know that soon enough, young lady, answered the stranger, for it was indeed not Peter; I am taking you where my master ordered. Adeline, not doubting he was the Marquis's servant, attempted to leap to the ground; but the man, dismounting, bound her to the horse. One feeble ray of hope at length beamed upon her mind; she endeavoured to soften the man to pity, and pleaded with all the genuine eloquence of distress; but he understood his interest too well to yield even for a moment to the compassion which, in spite of himself, her artless supplication inspired.
She now resigned herself to despair, and in passive silence submitted to her fate. They continued thus to travel, till a storm of rain accompanied by thunder and lightning drove them to the covert of a thick grove. The man believed this a safe situation, and Adeline was now too careless of life to attempt convincing him of his error. The storm was violent and long, but as soon as it abated they set off on full gallop; and having continued to travel for about two hours, they came to the borders of the forest, and soon after to a high lonely wall, which Adeline could just distinguish by the moonlight, which now streamed through the parting clouds.
Here they stopped: the man dismounted, and having opened a small door in the wall, he unbound Adeline, who shrieked, though involuntarily and in vain, as he took her from the horse. The door opened upon a narrow passage, dimly lighted by a lamp, which hung at the further end. He led her on; they came to another door; it opened, and disclosed a magnificent saloon splendidly illuminated, and fitted up in the most airy and elegant taste.
The walls were painted in fresco, representing scenes from Ovid, and hung above with silk, drawn up in festoons, and richly fringed. The sofas were of a silk to suit the hangings. From the centre of the ceiling, which exhibited a scene from the Armida of Tasso, descended a silver lamp of Etruscan form; it diffused a blaze of light that, reflected from large pier glasses, completely illuminated the saloon. Busts of Horace, Ovid, Anacreon, Tibullus, and Petronius Arbiter, adorned the recesses, and stands of flowers placed in Etruscan vases breathed the most delicious perfume. In the middle of the apartment stood a small table spread with a collation of fruits, ices, and liqueurs. No person appeared. The whole seemed the works of enchantment, and rather resembled the palace of a fairy than any thing of human conformation.