But while the lofty
saloon resounded with their warblings, and the light sound of feet
upon its marble pavement kept time to the cadence of the song, poor
Inez, with her face buried in the silken couch on which she reclined,
was only rendered more wretched by the sound of gayety.
At length her attention was caught by the voice of one of the singers,
that brought with it some indefinite recollections. She raised her
head, and cast an anxious look at the performers, who, as usual, were
at the lower end of the saloon.
One of them advanced a little before the others. It was a female,
dressed in a fanciful, pastoral garb, suited to the character she was
sustaining; but her countenance was not to be mistaken. It was the
same ballad-singer that had twice crossed her path, and given her
mysterious intimations of the lurking mischief that surrounded her.
When the rest of the performances were concluded, she seized a
tambourine, and, tossing it aloft, danced alone to the melody of her
own voice. In the course of her dancing, she approached to where Inez
reclined: and as she struck the tambourine, contrived dexterously to
throw a folded paper on the couch. Inez seized it with avidity, and
concealed it in her bosom.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273