Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:--
They would have thought who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids
Amidst the festal sounding shades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing,
While as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love framed with mirth a gay fantastic round.
ODE TO THE PASSIONS.
Adeline, in the society of friends so beloved, lost the impression of
that melancholy which the fate of her parent had occasioned: she
recovered all her natural vivacity; and when she threw off the mourning
habit which filial piety had required her to assume, she gave her hand
to Theodore. The nuptials, which were celebrated at St. Maur, were
graced by the presence of the Count and Countess D----; and La Luc had
the supreme felicity of confirming on the same day the flattering
destinies of both his children. When the ceremony was over, he blessed
and embraced them all with tears of fatherly affection. I thank thee, O
God! that I have been permitted to see this hour, said he; whenever it
shall please thee to call me hence, I shall depart in peace.
Long, very long, may you be spared to bless your children! replied
Adeline. Clara kissed her father's hand and wept: Long, very long! she
repeated in a voice scarcely audible. La Luc smiled cheerfully, and
turned the conversation to a subject less affecting.
But the time now drew nigh when La Luc thought it necessary to return to
the duties of his parish, from which he had so long been absent. Madame
La Luc too, who had attended him during the period of his danger at
Montpellier, and hence returned to Savoy, complained much of the
solitude of her life; and this was with her brother an additional motive
for his speedy departure. Theodore and Adeline, who could not support
the thought of a separation, endeavoured to persuade him to give up his
chateau, and to reside with them in France; but he was held by many ties
to Leloncourt. For many years he had constituted the comfort and
happiness of his parishioners; they revered and loved him as a
father--he regarded them with an affection little short of parental. The
attachment they discovered towards him on his departure was not
forgotten either; it had made a deep impression on his mind, and he
could not bear the thought of forsaking them now that Heaven had
showered on him its abundance. It is sweet to live for them, said he,
and I will also die amongst them. A sentiment also of a more tender
nature,--(and let not the stoic profane it with the name of weakness, or
the man of the world scorn it as unnatural)--a sentiment still more
tender attached him to Leloncourt,--the remains of his wife reposed
there.
Since La Luc would not reside in France, Theodore and Adeline, to whom
the splendid gaieties that courted them at Paris, were very inferior
temptations to the sweet domestic pleasures and refined society which
Leloncourt would afford, determined to accompany La Luc and Monsieur and
Madame Verneuil abroad. Adeline arranged her affairs so as to render her
residence in France unnecessary; and having bid an affectionate adieu to
the Count and Countess D----, and to M. Amand, who had recovered a
tolerable degree of cheerfulness, she departed with her friends for
Savoy.
They travelled leisurely, and frequently turned out of their way to view
whatever was worthy of observation. After a long and pleasant journey
they came once more within view of the Swiss mountains, the sight of
which revived a thousand interesting recollections in the mind of
Adeline. She remembered the circumstances and the sensations under which
she had first seen them--when an orphan, flying from persecution to seek
shelter among strangers, and lost to the only person on earth whom she
loved--she remembered this, and the contrast of the present moment
struck with all its force upon her heart.
The countenance of Clara brightened into smiles of the most animated
delight as she drew near the beloved scenes of her infant pleasures; and
Theodore, often looking from the windows, caught with patriotic
enthusiasm the magnificent and changing scenery which the receding
mountains successively disclosed.
It was evening when they approached within a few miles of Leloncourt,
and the road winding round the foot of a stupendous crag, presented them
a full view of the lake, and of the peaceful dwelling of La Luc. An
exclamation of joy from the whole party announced the discovery, and the
glance of pleasure was reflected from every eye. The sun's last light
gleamed upon the waters that reposed in "crystal purity" below, mellowed
every feature of the landscape, and touched with purple splendour the
clouds that rolled along the mountain tops.
La Luc welcomed his family to his happy home, and sent up a silent
thanksgiving that he was permitted thus to return to it. Adeline
continued to gaze upon each well known object; and again reflecting on
the vicissitudes of grief and joy, and the surprising change of fortune
which she had experienced since last she saw them, her heart dilated
with gratitude and complacent delight. She looked at Theodore, whom in
these very scenes she had lamented as lost to her for ever; who, when
found again, was about to be torn from her by an ignominious death; but,
who now sat by her side her secure and happy husband, the pride of his
family and herself; and while the sensibility of her heart flowed in
tears from her eyes, a smile of ineffable tenderness told him all she
felt. He gently pressed her hand, and answered her with a look of love.
Peter, who now rode up to the carriage with a face fall of joy and of
importance, interrupted a course of sentiment which was become almost
too interesting. Ah! my dear master! cried he, welcome home again. Here
is the village, God bless it! It is worth a million such places as
Paris. Thank St. Jaques, we are all come safe back again.
This effusion of honest Peter's joy was received and answered with the
kindness it deserved. As they drew near the lake, music sounded over the
water, and they presently saw a large party of the villagers assembled
on a green spot that sloped to the very margin of the waves, and dancing
in all their holiday finery. It was the evening of a festival. The elder
peasants sat under the shade of the trees that crowned this little
eminence, eating milk and fruits, and watching their sons and daughters
frisk it away to the sprightly notes of the tabor and pipe, which was
joined by the softer tones of a mandolin.
The scene was highly interesting; and what added to its picturesque
beauty was a group of cattle that stood, some on the brink, some half in
the water, and others reposing on the green bank, while several peasant
girls, dressed in the neat simplicity of their country, were dispensing
the milky feast. Peter now rode on first, and a crowd soon collected
round him, who, learning that their beloved master was at hand, went
forth to meet and welcome him. Their warm and honest expressions of joy
diffused an exquisite satisfaction over the heart of the good La Luc,
who met them with the kindness of a father, and could scarcely forbear
shedding tears to this testimony of their attachment. When the younger
part of the peasants heard the news of his arrival, the general joy was
such, that, led by the tabor and pipe, they danced before his carriage
to the chateau, where they again welcomed him and his family with the
enlivening strains of music. At the gate of the chateau they were
received by Madame La Luc,--and a happier party never met.
As the evening was uncommonly mild and beautiful, supper was spread in
the garden. When the repast was over, Clara, whose heart was all glee,
proposed a dance by moonlight. It will be delicious, said she; the
moonbeams are already dancing on the waters. See what a stream of
radiance they throw across the lake, and how they sparkle round that
little promontory on the left. The freshness of the hour too invites to
dancing.
They all agreed to the proposal.--And let the good people who have so
heartily welcomed us home be called in too, said La Luc: they shall
_all_ partake our happiness: there is devotion in making others happy,
and gratitude ought to make us devout. Peter, bring more wine, and set
some tables under the trees. Peter flew; and while chairs and tables
were placing, Clara ran for her favourite lute, the lute which had
formerly afforded her such delight, and which Adeline had often touched
with a melancholy expression. Clara's light hand now ran over the
chords, and drew forth tones of tender sweetness, her voice accompanying
the following:
AIR
Now at Moonlight's fairy hoar,
When faintly gleams each dewy steep,
And vale and mountain, lake and bower,
In solitary grandeur sleep;
When slowly sinks the evening breeze,
That lulls the mind in pensive care,
And Fancy loftier visions sees,
Bid music wake the silent air:
Bid the merry merry tabor sound,
And with the Fays of lawn or glade
In tripping circlet beat the ground
Under the high trees' trembling shade.
"Now at Moonlight's fairy hour"
Shall Music breathe her dulcet voice,
And o'er the waves, with magic power,
Call on Echo to rejoice!
Peter, who could not move in a sober step, had already spread
refreshments under the trees, and in a short time the lawn was encircled
with peasantry. The rural pipe and tabor were placed, at Clara's
request, under the shade of her beloved acacias on the margin of the
lake; the merry notes of music sounded, Adeline led off the dance, and
the mountains answered only to the strains of mirth and melody.
The venerable La Luc, as he sat among the elder peasants, surveyed the
scene--his children and people thus assembled round him in one grand
compact of harmony and joy--the frequent tear bedewed his cheek, and he
seemed to taste the fulness of an exalted delight.
So much was every heart roused to gladness, that the morning dawn began
to peep upon the scene of their festivity, when every cottager returned
to his home, blessing the benevolence of La Luc.
After passing some weeks with La Luc, M. Verneuil bought a chateau in
the village of Leloncourt; and as it was the only one not already
occupied, Theodore looked out for a residence in the neighbourhood. At
the distance of a few leagues, on the beautiful banks of the lake of
Geneva, where the waters retire into a small bay, he purchased a villa.
The chateau was characterized by an air of simplicity and taste rather
than of magnificence, which, however, was the chief trait in the
surrounding scene. The chateau was almost encircled with woods, which
formed a grand amphitheatre, swept down to the water's edge, and
abounded with wild and romantic walks. Here nature was suffered to sport
in all her beautiful luxuriance, except where, here and there, the hand
of art formed the foliage to admit a view of the blue waters of the
lake, with the white sail that glided by, or of the distant mountains.
In front of the chateau the woods opened to a lawn, and the eye was
suffered to wander over the lake, whose bosom presented an ever-moving
picture, while its varied margin sprinkled with villas, woods, and
towns, and crowned beyond with the snowy and sublime Alps, rising point
behind point in awful confusion, exhibited a scenery of almost
unequalled magnificence.
Here, contemning the splendour of false happiness, and possessing the
pure and rational delights of love refined into the most tender
friendship, surrounded by the friends so dear to them, and visited by a
select and enlightened society--here, in the very bosom of felicity,
lived Theodore and Adeline La Luc.
The passion of Louis de La Motte yielded at length to the powers of
absence and necessity. He still loved Adeline, but it was with the
placid tenderness of friendship; and when, at the earnest invitation of
Theodore, he visited the villa, he beheld their happiness with a
satisfaction unalloyed by any emotions of envy. He afterwards married a
lady of some fortune at Geneva; and resigning his commission in the
French service, settled on the borders of the lake, and increased the
social delights of Theodore and Adeline.
Their former lives afforded an example of trials well endured--and their
present, of virtues greatly rewarded; and this reward they continued to
deserve--for, not to themselves was their happiness contracted, but
diffused to all who came within the sphere of their influence. The
indigent and unhappy rejoiced in their benevolence, the virtuous and
enlightened in their friendship, and their children in parents whose
example impressed upon their hearts, the precepts offered to their
understandings.