such a time would be anything but agreeable. As we have seen, therefore,
he permitted his former host to retire without attempting a recognition,
but fully promising himself a rich indemnity for his present forbearance
should chance afford him another opportunity. In vain did Franz endeavor
to forget the many perplexing thoughts which assailed him; in vain did
he court the refreshment of sleep. Slumber refused to visit his eyelids
and the night was passed in feverish contemplation of the chain of
circumstances tending to prove the identity of the mysterious visitant
to the Colosseum with the inhabitant of the grotto of Monte Cristo; and
the more he thought, the firmer grew his opinion on the subject. Worn
out at length, he fell asleep at daybreak, and did not awake till late.
Like a genuine Frenchman, Albert had employed his time in arranging
for the evening's diversion; he had sent to engage a box at the Teatro
Argentino; and Franz, having a number of letters to write, relinquished
the carriage to Albert for the whole of the day. At five o'clock Albert
returned, delighted with his day's work; he had been occupied in leaving
his letters of introduction, and had received in return more invitations
to balls and routs than it would be possible for him to accept; besides
this, he had seen (as he called it) all the remarkable sights at Rome.
Yes, in a single day he had accomplished what his more serious-minded
companion would have taken weeks to effect. Neither had he neglected to
ascertain the name of the piece to be played that night at the Teatro
Argentino, and also what performers appeared in it.
The opera of "Parisina" was announced for representation, and the
principal actors were Coselli, Moriani, and La Specchia. The young men,
therefore, had reason to consider themselves fortunate in having the
opportunity of hearing one of the best works by the composer of "Lucia
di Lammermoor," supported by three of the most renowned vocalists of
Italy. Albert had never been able to endure the Italian theatres, with
their orchestras from which it is impossible to see, and the absence of
balconies, or open boxes; all these defects pressed hard on a man who
had had his stall at the Bouffes, and had shared a lower box at the
Opera. Still, in spite of this, Albert displayed his most dazzling and
effective costumes each time he visited the theatres; but, alas, his
elegant toilet was wholly thrown away, and one of the most worthy
representatives of Parisian fashion had to carry with him the mortifying
reflection that he had nearly overrun Italy without meeting with a
single adventure.
Sometimes Albert would affect to make a joke of his want of success; but
internally he was deeply wounded, and his self-love immensely piqued, to
think that Albert de Morcerf, the most admired and most sought after of
any young person of his day, should thus be passed over, and merely have
his labor for his pains. And the thing was so much the more annoying,
as, according to the characteristic modesty of a Frenchman, Albert had
quitted Paris with the full conviction that he had only to show himself
in Italy to carry all before him, and that upon his return he
should astonish the Parisian world with the recital of his numerous
love-affairs. Alas, poor Albert! none of those interesting adventures
fell in his way; the lovely Genoese, Florentines, and Neapolitans were
all faithful, if not to their husbands, at least to their lovers, and
thought not of changing even for the splendid appearance of Albert de
Morcerf; and all he gained was the painful conviction that the ladies of
Italy have this advantage over those of France, that they are faithful
even in their infidelity. Yet he could not restrain a hope that in
Italy, as elsewhere, there might be an exception to the general rule.
Albert, besides being an elegant, well-looking young man, was also
possessed of considerable talent and ability; moreover, he was a
viscount--a recently created one, certainly, but in the present day it
is not necessary to go as far back as Noah in tracing a descent, and
a genealogical tree is equally estimated, whether dated from 1399
or merely 1815; but to crown all these advantages, Albert de Morcerf
commanded an income of 50,000 livres, a more than sufficient sum to
render him a personage of considerable importance in Paris. It was
therefore no small mortification to him to have visited most of the
principal cities in Italy without having excited the most trifling
observation. Albert, however, hoped to indemnify himself for all these
slights and indifferences during the Carnival, knowing full well that
among the different states and kingdoms in which this festivity is
celebrated, Rome is the spot where even the wisest and gravest throw off
the usual rigidity of their lives, and deign to mingle in the follies of
this time of liberty and relaxation.
The Carnival was to commence on the morrow; therefore Albert had not
an instant to lose in setting forth the programme of his hopes,
expectations, and claims to notice. With this design he had engaged a
box in the most conspicuous part of the theatre, and exerted himself
to set off his personal attractions by the aid of the most rich and
elaborate toilet. The box taken by Albert was in the first circle;
although each of the three tiers of boxes is deemed equally
aristocratic, and is, for this reason, generally styled the "nobility's
boxes," and although the box engaged for the two friends was
sufficiently capacious to contain at least a dozen persons, it had cost
less than would be paid at some of the French theatres for one admitting
merely four occupants. Another motive had influenced Albert's selection
of his seat,--who knew but that, thus advantageously placed, he might
not in truth attract the notice of some fair Roman, and an introduction
might ensue that would procure him the offer of a seat in a carriage, or
a place in a princely balcony, from which he might behold the gayeties
of the Carnival? These united considerations made Albert more lively and
anxious to please than he had hitherto been. Totally disregarding the
business of the stage, he leaned from his box and began attentively
scrutinizing the beauty of each pretty woman, aided by a powerful
opera-glass; but, alas, this attempt to attract notice wholly failed;
not even curiosity had been excited, and it was but too apparent
that the lovely creatures, into whose good graces he was desirous of
stealing, were all so much engrossed with themselves, their lovers,
or their own thoughts, that they had not so much as noticed him or the
manipulation of his glass.
The truth was, that the anticipated pleasures of the Carnival, with the
"holy week" that was to succeed it, so filled every fair breast, as to
prevent the least attention being bestowed even on the business of the
stage. The actors made their entries and exits unobserved or unthought
of; at certain conventional moments, the spectators would suddenly cease
their conversation, or rouse themselves from their musings, to listen
to some brilliant effort of Moriani's, a well-executed recitative by
Coselli, or to join in loud applause at the wonderful powers of La
Specchia; but that momentary excitement over, they quickly relapsed into
their former state of preoccupation or interesting conversation. Towards
the close of the first act, the door of a box which had been hitherto
vacant was opened; a lady entered to whom Franz had been introduced in
Paris, where indeed, he had imagined she still was. The quick eye of
Albert caught the involuntary start with which his friend beheld the new
arrival, and, turning to him, he said hastily, "Do you know the woman
who has just entered that box?"
"Yes; what do you think of her?"
"Oh, she is perfectly lovely--what a complexion! And such magnificent
hair! Is she French?"
"No; a Venetian."
"And her name is--"
"Countess G----."
"Ah, I know her by name!" exclaimed Albert; "she is said to possess as
much wit and cleverness as beauty. I was to have been presented to her
when I met her at Madame Villefort's ball."
"Shall I assist you in repairing your negligence?" asked Franz.
"My dear fellow, are you really on such good terms with her as to
venture to take me to her box?"
"Why, I have only had the honor of being in her society and conversing
with her three or four times in my life; but you know that even such
an acquaintance as that might warrant my doing what you ask." At that
instant, the countess perceived Franz, and graciously waved her hand to
him, to which he replied by a respectful inclination of the head. "Upon
my word," said Albert, "you seem to be on excellent terms with the
beautiful countess."
"You are mistaken in thinking so," returned Franz calmly; "but you
merely fall into the same error which leads so many of our countrymen to
commit the most egregious blunders,--I mean that of judging the habits
and customs of Italy and Spain by our Parisian notions; believe me,
nothing is more fallacious than to form any estimate of the degree of
intimacy you may suppose existing among persons by the familiar terms
they seem upon; there is a similarity of feeling at this instant between
ourselves and the countess--nothing more."
"Is there, indeed, my good fellow? Pray tell me, is it sympathy of
heart?"
"No; of taste," continued Franz gravely.
"And in what manner has this congeniality of mind been evinced?"
"By the countess's visiting the Colosseum, as we did last night, by
moonlight, and nearly alone."
"You were with her, then?"
"I was."
"And what did you say to her?"
"Oh, we talked of the illustrious dead of whom that magnificent ruin is
a glorious monument!"
"Upon my word," cried Albert, "you must have been a very entertaining
companion alone, or all but alone, with a beautiful woman in such a
place of sentiment as the Colosseum, and yet to find nothing better a
talk about than the dead! All I can say is, if ever I should get such a
chance, the living should be my theme."
"And you will probably find your theme ill-chosen."
"But," said Albert, breaking in upon his discourse, "never mind the
past; let us only remember the present. Are you not going to keep your
promise of introducing me to the fair subject of our remarks?"
"Certainly, directly the curtain falls on the stage."
"What a confounded time this first act takes. I believe, on my soul,
that they never mean to finish it."
"Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. How
exquisitely Coselli sings his part."
"But what an awkward, inelegant fellow he is."
"Well, then, what do you say to La Specchia? Did you ever see anything
more perfect than her acting?"
"Why, you know, my dear fellow, when one has been accustomed to Malibran
and Sontag, such singers as these don't make the same impression on you
they perhaps do on others."
"At least, you must admire Moriani's style and execution."
"I never fancied men of his dark, ponderous appearance singing with a
voice like a woman's."
"My good friend," said Franz, turning to him, while Albert continued to
point his glass at every box in the theatre, "you seem determined not to
approve; you are really too difficult to please." The curtain at length
fell on the performances, to the infinite satisfaction of the Viscount
of Morcerf, who seized his hat, rapidly passed his fingers through his
hair, arranged his cravat and wristbands, and signified to Franz that he
was waiting for him to lead the way. Franz, who had mutely interrogated
the countess, and received from her a gracious smile in token that he
would be welcome, sought not to retard the gratification of Albert's
eager impatience, but began at once the tour of the house, closely
followed by Albert, who availed himself of the few minutes required
to reach the opposite side of the theatre to settle the height and
smoothness of his collar, and to arrange the lappets of his coat. This
important task was just completed as they arrived at the countess's box.
At the knock, the door was immediately opened, and the young man who
was seated beside the countess, in obedience to the Italian custom,
instantly rose and surrendered his place to the strangers, who, in turn,
would be expected to retire upon the arrival of other visitors.
Franz presented Albert as one of the most distinguished young men of the
day, both as regarded his position in society and extraordinary talents;
nor did he say more than the truth, for in Paris and the circle in
which the viscount moved, he was looked upon and cited as a model of
perfection. Franz added that his companion, deeply grieved at having
been prevented the honor of being presented to the countess during her
sojourn in Paris, was most anxious to make up for it, and had requested
him (Franz) to remedy the past misfortune by conducting him to her box,
and concluded by asking pardon for his presumption in having taken
it upon himself to do so. The countess, in reply, bowed gracefully to
Albert, and extended her hand with cordial kindness to Franz; then,
inviting Albert to take the vacant seat beside her, she recommended
Franz to take the next best, if he wished to view the ballet, and
pointed to the one behind her own chair. Albert was soon deeply
engrossed in discoursing upon Paris and Parisian matters, speaking
to the countess of the various persons they both knew there. Franz
perceived how completely he was in his element; and, unwilling to
interfere with the pleasure he so evidently felt, took up Albert's
glass, and began in his turn to survey the audience. Sitting alone, in
the front of a box immediately opposite, but situated on the third
