"This is where you must remain, Colombe," said Benvenuto, "and you must make up your mind to go down only after dark. Await here in this retreat, under God's eye and our watchful care, the result of my efforts. Jupiter," he added with a smile, alluding to the king's promise, "will finish, I trust, what Mars has begun. You don't understand, but I know what I mean. We have Olympus on our side, and you have Paradise. How can we not succeed? Come, smile a little, Colombe, for the future at least, if not for the present. I tell you in all seriousness that we have ground for hope. Hope therefore with confidence,—in God, if not in me. I have been in a sterner prison than yours, believe me, and my hope made me indifferent to my captivity. From now until the day that success crowns my efforts, Colombe, you will see me no more. Your brother Ascanio, who is less suspected and less closely watched than I am, will come to see you, and will stand guard over you. I rely upon him to transform this workman's chamber into a nun's cell. Now that I am about to leave you, mark well and remember my words: you have done all that you had to do, trustful and courageous child; the rest concerns me. We have now only to allow Providence time to do its part, Colombe. Now listen. Whatever happens remember this: however desperate your situation may seem to be or may really be, even though you stand at the altar and have naught left to say but the terrible Yes which would unite you forever to Comte d'Orbec, do not doubt your friend, Colombe; do not doubt your father, my child; rely upon God and upon us; I will arrive in time, I promise you. Will you have the requisite faith and resolution? Tell me."
"Yes," said the girl confidently.
"'Tis well," said Cellini. "Adieu. I leave you now in your solitude; when everybody is asleep, Ascanio will come and bring you what you need. Adieu, Colombe."
He held out his hand, but Colombe gave him her forehead to kiss as she was accustomed to do with her father. Benvenuto started, but, passing his hand over his eyes, he mastered the thoughts which came to his mind and the passions which raged in his heart, and deposited upon that spotless forehead the most paternal of kisses.
"Adieu, dear child of Stefana," he whispered, and went quickly down the ladder to Ascanio, with whom he joined the workmen, who had finished eating, but were drinking still.
A new life, a strange, dream-like life, thereupon began for Colombe, and she accommodated herself to it as she would have done to the life of a queen.
Let us see how the aerial chamber was furnished. It had already, as we know, a bed and a table. Ascanio added a low velvet chair, a Venetian mirror, a collection of religious books selected by Colombe herself, a crucifix,—a marvellous piece of carving,—and a silver vase, also from the master's hand, which was filled every night with fresh flowers. There was room for nothing more in the white shell, which contained so much of innocence and charm.
Colombe ordinarily slept during the day. Ascanio had advised that course for fear that, if she were awake, she might thoughtlessly do something that would betray her presence. She awoke with the stars and the nightingale's song, knelt upon her bed, in front of her crucifix, and remained for some time absorbed in fervent prayer; then she made her toilet, dressed her lovely, luxuriant hair, and sat and mused. Erelong a ladder would be placed against the statue and Ascanio would knock at the little door. If Colombe's toilet was completed, she would admit him and he would remain with her until midnight. At midnight, if the weather was fine, she would go down into the garden, and Ascanio would return to the Grand-Nesle for a few hours' sleep, while Colombe took her nightly walk, beginning once more the old dreams she used to dream in her favorite path, and which seemed now more likely to be fulfilled. After about two hours the white apparition would return to her snug retreat, where she would wait for daylight and her bedtime, inhaling the sweet odor of the flowers she had collected for her little nest, and listening to the singing of the nightingales in the Petit-Nesle, and the crowing of the cocks in the Pré-aux-Clercs.
Just before dawn Ascanio would return to his beloved once more, bringing her daily supply of provisions, adroitly subtracted from Dame Ruperta's larder by virtue of Cellini's complicity. Then they would sit for a while, conversing as only lovers can converse, evoking memories of the past, and forming plans for the future when they should be man and wife. Sometimes Ascanio would sit silently contemplating Colombe, and Colombe would meet his earnest gaze with her sweet smile. Often when they parted they had not exchanged a single word, but those were the occasions on which they said most. Had not each of them in his or her heart all that the other could have said, in addition to what the heart cannot say, but God reads?
Grief and solitude have this advantage in youth, that, while they make the heart nobler and greater, they preserve its freshness. Colombe, a proud, dignified maiden, was at the same time a light-hearted young madcap: so there were days when they laughed as well as days when they dreamed,—days when they played together like children; and, most astonishing thing of all, those days—or nights, for, as we have seen, the young people had inverted the order of nature—were not the ones that passed most quickly. Love, like every other shining thing, needs a little darkness to make its light shine the brighter.