THE LOOK OUT.
Oliva went to bed, and slept better. She admired the count, whom she
did not in the least understand. She could no longer think him timid;
she did not suspect that he was only cold and insensible. She felt
pleased at the perfect safety in which he assured her she was; and in
the morning she examined her new rooms, and found them nobly and
luxuriously furnished, and enjoyed immensely her privilege of going out
into the balcony, filled with flowers, and where she got sunshine and
fresh air, although she drew back whenever she saw any one approaching,
or heard a carriage coming. There were not many, however, in the Rue
St. Claude. She could see the château of Menilmontant, the great trees
in the cemetery, myriads of houses of all colors; and she could see the
fields beyond, full of children at play, and the peasants trotting
along the roads on their donkeys. All this charmed Oliva, who had
always a heart of love for the country, since she had left Taverney
Maison-Rouge. At last, getting tired of this distant view, she began to
examine the houses opposite to her. In some, she saw birds in cages;
and in one, hung with yellow silk curtains, and ornamented with
flowers, she thought she could distinguish a figure moving about. She
called her femme-de-chambre to make inquiries about them; but the woman
could only show her mistress all the churches, and tell her the names
of the streets; she knew nothing of the neighbors. Oliva therefore sent
her away again, and determined to watch for herself.
She saw some open their doors, and come out for a walk, and others
variously occupied. At last she saw the figure of a woman seat herself
in an armchair, in the room with the yellow curtains, and abandon her
head for an hour and a half to a hair-dresser, while he built up one of
those immense edifices worn at that time, in which minerals,
vegetables, and even animals, were introduced. At last, it was
complete: Oliva thought she looked pretty, and admired her little foot,
encased in a rose-colored slipper, which rested on another chair. She
began to construct all sorts of romances about this lady, and made
various movements to attract her attention, but she never turned her
eyes that way, as that room had never before been occupied, and she
began to despair. The lady was, of course, Jeanne de Valois, who was
deeply absorbed in devising some scheme for preventing the queen and
the cardinal from meeting. At last, Oliva, turning suddenly round,
knocked over a flower-pot which fell from the balcony with a crash: at
the sound the lady turned and saw her, and clasping her hands she
called out, “The Queen;” but looking again, she murmured, “Oh! I sought
for a means to gain my end, and I have found one.” Then, hearing a
sound behind her, Oliva turned and saw Cagliostro, and came in
directly.