When I sometimes questioned
the old woman as to the count's name and where he lived, she only
smirked as she had done on the evening of my arrival, and slyly
pinched me and winked at me archly as if she were out of her senses.
If on a warm day I drank a whole bottle of wine, the maids were sure
to giggle when they brought me another; and once when I wanted to
smoke a pipe, and informed them by signs of my desire, they all burst
into a fit of foolish laughter. But most mysterious of all was a
serenade which often, and always upon the darkest nights, sounded
beneath my window. A guitar was played fitfully, soft, low chords
being heard from time to time. Once I imagined I heard some one down
below call up, "Pst! pst!" I sprang out of bed and, putting my head
out of the window, called, "Holla! who's there?" But no answer came; I
only heard the rustling of the shrubbery, as if some one were hastily
running away. The large dog in the court-yard, roused by my shout,
barked a couple of times, and then all was still again. After this the
serenade was heard no more.
Otherwise my life here was all that mortal could desire. The worthy
Porter knew well what he was talking about when he was wont to declare
that in Italy raisins dropped into one's mouth of themselves. I lived
in the lonely castle like an enchanted prince. Wherever I went the
servants treated me with the greatest respect, though they all knew
that I had not a farthing in my pocket.
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