g
blow upon my heated and fevered brain; and as I sat thus, lost in
reverie, the last traces of daylight gradually faded away, and a thin,
crescent-like moon, shewed itself over the hill of the Meissner. The
city lay in deep shadow, and almost in silence; the mournful plashing of
the river being plainly heard above all other sounds. There is something
sad, and almost awful, in the sight of a large and populous city bathed
in the silence and sleep of night; its busy voice hushed, its streets
untrodden, or echoing to the tread of a solitary passer-by. To me this
was now most welcome. The dreamy melancholy of my mind felt pleasure
in the death-like stillness about me, and I wandered forth to enjoy the
free air and balmy breeze upon the bank of the Elbe. After some time I
crossed the bridge, and continued my walk through the suburb, intending
to return by a beautiful garden which lies on that side of the river. As
I approached the Elbe I was struck by the bright glare of light which,
proceeding from some building near, illuminated the river nearly the
whole way across, displaying upon its glassy surface several boats, in
which the people sat resting on their oars, and scarcely moving in
the gentle tide of the stream. I remembered for a moment, and then it
occurred to me that the brilliant glare of light proceeded from the
villa of Count Lowenstein, which stood upon a small promontory of
land, about two miles from Dresden, this being the night of a private
_soiree_, to which only his nearest and most intimate friends were ever
invited. Report had spoken loudly of the singular beauty of the villa
itself, the splendour of its decorations, the richness and taste of its
furniture; and, indeed, around the whole character of the place, and the
nature of the entertainments held there, the difficulty of _entree_,
and the secrecy observed by the initiated, had thrown an air of the most
romantic interest. To these _soirees_ although honoured by marks of the
greatest distinction, and even admitted to the closest intimacy, the
Count never invited me, and in the days of my prosperity it had ever
been with a sense of pique I called to mind the circumstance. Thither I
now inadvertently bent my steps, and it was only when the narrowness
of the path which lay between the hedge of the garden and the river
required my caution in walking, that I remembered I must have entered
the grounds, and was then actually within a few paces of the villa.
Wh