On the first one was mounted a lackey
in gray livery, and well armed, who led by a long strap a second mule
heavily laden with baggage, and on the third was a young woman, wrapped
in a large cloak trimmed with fur, and with her hat, a gray felt with
a scarlet feather, drawn down over her eyes, so as to conceal her face
from the two interested spectators at the window above.
"I say, Herode," exclaimed the pedant, "doesn't all this remind you of
something? It seems to me this is not the first time we have heard the
jingling of those bells, eh?"
"By Saint Alipantin!" cried the tyrant, joyfully, "these are the very
mules that carried Zerbine off so mysteriously. Speak of a wolf--"
"And you will hear the rustling of his wings," interrupted Blazius,
with a peal of laughter. "Oh! thrice happy day!--day to be marked with
white!--for this is really Mlle. Zerbine in person. Look, she jumps down
from her mule with that bewitching little air peculiar to herself, and
throws her cloak to that obsequious lackey with a nonchalance worthy of
a princess; there, she has taken off her hat, and shakes out her raven
tresses as a bird does its feathers; it delights my old eyes to see her
again. Come, let's go down and welcome her."
So Blazius and his companions hastened down to the court, and met
Zerbine just as she turned to enter the house.
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