ABSTRACT
On the morning succeeding to the arrival of the Count D’Albini at the cottage of Montmorency, Gabrielle, as was her custom, rose at an early hour to pursue her customary avocations. D’Albini, awakening at a time at which it had been more usual for him to retire to repose, rose likewise, and perceived from his lattice the fair daughter of Montmorency tending the little garden which spread its green carpet on a small spot of the rugged rock, and flowered along the sides of a frowning precipice. Struck with the beautiful simplicity of her appearance, which, instead of detracting from, added a singular charm to her majestic figure, he stepped back a few paces, for the purpose of contemplating her unobserved; for Angelo did not pride himself on possessing the vulgar effrontery which can look on modest beauty with the bold stare of avowed libertinism. When Gabrielle turned her face towards him, its sweet and noble expression, energetically animated, yet devoid of boldness, conveyed a novel sensation to his breast; his heart beat; a sensation of shame assailed him, and this feeling was occasioned by the reflection of what women, how different in seeming to the creature before him, had hitherto attracted his admiration, and enslaved his senses.
